


The 241 Job

by DinerGuy



Category: Leverage, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All they wanted was to get the bad guy, maybe grab some coffee, and call it a day. But neither team bargained for the other, and New York City may never be the same...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A friend and I were discussing POI and Leverage one day and decided the characters would be hilarious together. So naturally I had to write a story where that could occur. ;) Thanks to veggiewoppa for the brainstorming and plotting help and to domina tempore and PapayaK for betaing!
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies.
> 
> Also, if you're interested, this is set approximately late first season for Leverage and early second for POI.

“Mom! Mom, what’s going on?” The little girl’s eyes were wide as she ran up the sidewalk, her dark ponytail and backpack bouncing up and down against her shoulders. She halted halfway to the porch steps and took in the mess of belongings jumbled on the lawn. Her bottom lip trembled as she reached down to pick up a stuffed bear, now soaked from the puddle where it had landed. She held onto its muddy paw and turned her teary brown eyes towards the drama going on at her front door.

Her mother was just coming out of the house, ahead of a muscular, red-haired man who was nearly shoving her onto the porch. “Please,” the woman begged. “This is our home! My little girl and I… We don’t have anywhere to go!” She tried to put a hand on the man’s arm, but he pulled away in disgust. At a loss for what to do with her hands, she ran her fingers through her dark hair and tried again with just words. “You can’t just force us to leave!”

“Yes ma’am, I can,” came the firm reply. He slammed the door behind him and plastered a piece of paper to it. Holding out a hand, he glared down his nose at the woman who was still pleading with him. “I need any keys to the property that you still have on your person. Now!”

“I… I only have the two you already took off of the keyring,” she told him tremulously.

He nodded, looking pleased. “Then we’re done here. Gather up anything you need and make sure it’s off the grass by four. Mr. Smith said he’ll have a truck stop by to pick up whatever you don’t want. Have a good day, ma’am.” His lip curled in a sardonic smile as he touched a hand to his ball cap brim. Descending the stairs in two long strides, he brushed past the girl still watching him and climbed into his blue pickup that was parked at the curb.

As the truck sped away, the girl ran up the sidewalk to her mother, who was leaning heavily against one of the porch columns. “Mom!”

“Hannah.” Her mother held out an arm, and Hannah quickly ran into the embrace. “It’ll be okay,” she soothed, even as she looked out over the mess of furniture, clothes, dishes, and other items spread out on the front yard. “It’ll be okay.”

* * *

“You have to help my sister, Mr. Ford,” the young man said, his voice soft but firm. “She shouldn’t have lost the house. Not the way she did.”

“Nate, please.” The other man at the table, middle-aged with dark hair and a pensive look on his face, nodded slowly. “And you said she was current on the rent payments?”

“That’s the thing,” the man continued. “She had been -”

Just then, a pretty brunette hurried up and slid into the chair beside Nate. “Sorry to interrupt,” she apologized breathlessly in a soft British accent. “This traffic… I mean, really.” She smiled at the two men.

Nate looked like he wanted to say something to her, but then he thought better of it. “Ah, Mr. Goldman, this is Sophie Devereaux, my, ah, my associate.”

“A pleasure,” Sophie smiled. “Please, continue.”

Goldman looked between both of them, then took a sip of his coffee and continued. “My sister, Leah, she had a great record with her payments. Never missed one, and we were so thankful that her friend introduced her to Smith. His loan was affordable, especially since Leah had already been turned down by several banks. Smith was her only chance at getting that house for her and Hannah.”

“But then something happened?” Sophie prompted.

“Yeah,” Goldman snorted. “Then Smith,” he spat out the name in disgust, “raised her fees so high she couldn’t afford them. We’ve tried nearly everything we can, but I’m here in Boston and she’s in New York City. Plus… well, frankly, we don’t have enough money between us to hire any kind of lawyer.”

“So this Smith, he repossessed the house?” Nate asked.

Goldman nodded. “We have nowhere else to turn, and I heard… well, I heard you might be able to help us out. Is it correct that you… that you help people, free of charge?” He looked hopeful but guarded, as if he was worried that everything was false and he would have absolutely no other alternative.

The corner of Nate’s mouth quirked in a small grin, but he just nodded. “That’s right. We, ah, we work on an alternative revenue stream. So you want this Smith to return the house to your sister?”

“This isn’t just about my sister,” the man replied. “Yes, she wants her house back, but Smith has done this to other people before. I dug into the whole thing when Leah called to tell me what had happened. Smith has been doing this repeatedly. Not enough to draw any meaningful notice, but still.” Goldman looked Nate directly in the eyes. “I want him to never hurt another family again,” he stated firmly.

* * *

It was a frosty morning, barely after sunrise. Sunlight was just starting to illuminate the city, and even though it would be a while before most of the world was awake, New York City was already buzzing. A tall, dark-haired man strode along the sidewalk, two paper cups in hand. He sipped out of one as he went, watching the crowd of people streaming around him. None of them seemed to know that they were being watched - not by this man in the suit and trenchcoat, nor by the myriad of cameras that blinked on every street corner, at every ATM, and many of the stores and restaurants along the way.

The man blended into the crowd of unique personalities making their own ways down the streets of the city. He was poised and watchful, but he didn’t seem to be ill at ease by any measure. He simply was more aware of his surroundings than those around him. The meaningful glances he threw at any of the cameras his glance happened to catch hinted that he knew more than the average person.

Before long, the man broke from the crowd. He took a turn down a side street, one less populated, and continued on his way. A few more turns, streets, and alleyways later, the man entered a library. From the state of its exterior and the dark lobby, it was evident that the building hadn’t been frequented by patrons in many years. But the man seemed to know where he was going, and before long, he walked through a hallway between several shelves and entered an area that seemed very out of place in its surroundings.

The multiple computers, monitors, and other equipment that occupied one side of the open area were better suited to a summer blockbuster than an abandoned library. And although books lined the shelves along the walls, there was more than enough room for a cracked glass board that had several photographs and other sheets of paper taped to it. Even more out of place than the tables full of computer equipment were the dog bed and toys that sat on the floor near those tables. A large brown dog lay on the bed, contentedly gnawing on a rawhide bone. It looked up as the man in the suit entered the room, ears going back in excited recognition. Tail wagging, the Belgian Malinois ran over to the newcomer expectantly.

“Good morning, boy,” the man greeted the animal in a low, hoarse voice. He grinned, offering a treat and a pat on the head. The dog leaned into the scratching behind his ears happily.

A small-statured, bespectacled man appeared in the far doorway. “Good morning, Mr. Reese. I trust you slept well.”

In response, Reese offered the un-sipped cup. “Tea?”

Accepting the gift, Finch gave a small smile and a nod. “Yes, thank you.”

“So,” Reese prompted, nodding at the board as he took another drink of his coffee. “We have another number?”

Finch pulled his cup down. “Mm, yes.” He walked slowly to the chair in front of the computers. There was a noticeable limp to his gait, and when he sat down, he did so rather stiffly. “Yes, the Machine just gave me one this morning. An Edward J. Kiernan.” He nodded towards the picture that was taped to the board.

“This guy?” Reese studied the image. It looked just like a driver’s license picture, only enlarged to a letter-sized sheet of paper. The man in the picture was in his fifties, with auburn hair that was slightly lighter at the temples and a very muscular build. His chin had a small scar almost dead center, but even with that, he could easily be called classically good-looking. “What’s his story?”

“Well, he was a research scientist for a rather reputable pharmaceutical company until about… five years ago,” Finch supplied, reading from his computer. “Then he was terminated. Employment records state it was for a lack of professionalism. After that, he bounced around between some smaller jobs, mostly in the pharmaceutical or insurance fields. Eventually, he set up shop on his own, where he now sells discounted drugs to those who can’t afford to pay regular prices.”

Reese turned from the board. “Any ideas on who would want to kill him?”

“Not as of yet,” Finch replied with a shake of his head. “Although I can imagine Kiernan’s business has the potential to create some unhappy customers.”

“Oh?”

“There is always a risk when taking any medication, Mr. Reese. And when you purchase them discounted - especially from an independent source like Mr. Kiernan here - you’re taking an even greater chance. There are many inferior drugs out there, made without the oversight of the FDA, which are much less expensive than those that are approved for public consumption. A business like Kiernan’s might rely on the cheaper, more dangerous option in order to turn a profit.”

Reese raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s possible one of his customers had bad results and is angry?”

“Anything is possible at this point,” Finch reasoned. “And don’t forget, he could very well be the perpetrator.” Finch was back to studying his computer screen. “Kiernan left his apartment as normal this morning. I suggest you keep an eye on him while he goes about his business today. Perhaps we’ll be fortunate to discover the truth of this case immediately.”

“We can hope,” Reese commented. “Send me his address. I’m on my way.”

 

* * *

The door opened and shut as a muscular man in jeans and a plaid button shirt walked into the loft. “Sorry I’m late.” He brushed his brown, shoulder-length hair from his face as he headed for the kitchen at the back of the room, offering no more than the clipped apology before swinging open the refrigerator door.

A young blonde woman, who occupied the left side of the sofa, shrugged and leaned her head back to watch him. “It’s okay. Hardison wasn’t ready anyway.”

“I was too ready!” came an objection from the front of the room as an African American man quickly looked up from the digital tablet in his hands.

“Then why is nothing coming up on the screen? And why did you look worried and start muttering about the signal?” she asked innocently.

“Parker, woman…” he trailed off without finishing his thought. “I was just, uh, waiting for Eliot. To be nice, thank you very much. No one appreciates my dang manners anymore.”

A muffled snort came from the direction of the kitchen.

Conspiratorially, Parker leaned over to Sophie, who was seated beside her on the couch. “He wasn’t ready,” she said in a loud whisper.

“Ah, yes, well,” Sophie looked between Hardison and Parker and held up her hands. “I really don’t want to get in the middle of this, you know.” She turned a pleading look on Nate, who was sitting in an armchair to her right. “Nate, can we start the… the presentation?” She waved a hand in Hardison’s direction.

Nate sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah. Uh, Hardison, do your, uh, do your thing. And stop arguing. Please?” He directed a look between the two younger members of the team.

Huffing a sigh, Parker sank back in her seat. “Eliot, you saw what happened,” she pleaded.

“Oh no,” Eliot responded as he came over to take a seat on the back of the couch. Biting into an apple, he raised an eyebrow. “I am not getting in the middle of this. We all know how protective Hardison gets about his equipment.”

“Protective?” Hardison exclaimed, looking up again from what he had been typing. “Protective? Oh, I’ll show y’all protective all right.”

“Just start the show, Hardison,” Nate interjected.

Hardison made a face, prompting Parker to throw a piece of popcorn at him, but acquiesced. His offense was noticeable at first, but that slowly dissipated as he settled into presentation mode. “Walter P. Smith,” he announced, hitting a button on his tablet. The three large television screens mounted on the wall behind him lit up, displaying a picture of a heavy-set, bald man in his early thirties. “Mr. Smith is a self-titled ‘funds manager,’“ he added air quotes with his free hand, “for people who can’t get loans the traditional way, from a bank or one of those specialized lending companies. Basically, if you need a loan quick, off the books, or you’ve been denied everywhere else, this guy’ll take your money. He’s got his own official office with a sign and everything.” Another click of a button showed a small storefront with a sign painted on the window that announced, ‘Walter P. Smith, Investments.’

“Ooh, so he’s a loan shark?” Parker wanted to know.

“Sort of,” Hardison clarified. “He doesn’t charge as high of a rate of interest as most - at least not at first - which is why so many clients have gone to him.”

Nate nodded. “Right, it looks really good on the surface, so people with no choice but an independent lender will turn to him first.”

“Like our client’s sister,” Sophie chimed in. She reached over to grab a handful of Parker’s popcorn as she continued, “They feel like they have no other options, and Smith promises a good deal.”

“Yeah. But,” Hardison added, “his contracts contain so many pages of fine print that most people don’t bother to read them all. Then he hikes interest rates, using the authority he was given when they signed off on the contract.”

“And then they get to the end of their ropes and wind up doing desperate things to survive,” Eliot remarked, shaking his head.

Hardison nodded as he hit another button on the screen in his hands. Several shots of account statements and contracts spread across the screens, layering over the images that were already displayed. “Anyway, I’ve been busy digging into our friend Smith’s records and online history. Looks like he settled in New York City about six months ago, and he’s showing no signs of leaving. He’s got quite a market right now with all of the people living there, and he’s been slowly working his way through the desperate and down and out population.”

“Then that’s where we’re headed,” Nate remarked. “We’ll get Smith hooked on an investment that’s too good to pass up, and then we’ll turn the tables on him. We just need to find his weak spot.”

“Cake,” Hardison spoke up.

Nate raised an eyebrow and turned back to the hacker. “What?”

“You wanted to know his weak spot,” Hardison explained, spreading his hands in a half-shrug. That’s it.”

“Hardison, you better not be making things up again,” Eliot muttered.

In response, Hardison just raised an eyebrow. “Thank you very much for your vote of confidence, but I happen to have done my research on this guy. You know, since that’s my job and everything. What… what do y’all think I do all day anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Eliot shot back. “You’re up all hours of the night playing video games. How am I supposed to know when you actually do some work or when you just decide to wing it?”

Hardison grunted in annoyance. “Of all the ungrateful… And I don’t stay up all night very often, thank you very much. Usually just part of the night, and it’s always for very good reasons. Like last night, when there was an impending -”

Nate cleared his throat. “You were saying, Hardison?”

“Right.” Shooting one last glare at Eliot, Hardison turned his attention back to the rest of the team. “So, after going through his credit history and internet searches - and you do not want to know what deep dark secrets I found in there. The man is nasty, y’all.” Hardison cringed momentarily. “It would seem that our friend Smith is interested in the art of pastries.” Hardison tapped a command into his tablet and then gestured at the screen as new images filled it. “See, he’s been researching recipes, watching reruns of Cupcake Wars, and playlisting dozens of baking tutorials on YouTube. He’s also been looking into some ‘for lease’ restaurant properties in his area.”

“Ooh!” Parker’s hand shot up. “Eliot makes amazing cupcakes,” she said excitedly when the others turned her way.

Four pairs of eyes shifted to Eliot, who just shrugged one shoulder. “What? A man can't enjoy boxing _and_ baking?”

“That’s it, then,” Nate nodded decidedly. “Pack your bags, team. Let’s go steal -”

“Oh, Nate," Sophie’s eyes were alight as she interrupted whatever Nate was going to say next, “can we schedule in some extra time? There are some darling little shops I’d just love to visit while we’re there.”

Parker made a face. “Are you going to make me come again?” she sighed, looking less than enthusiastic about the prospect of being dragged around the city with the other woman.

“Make you? Parker, I thought you loved it!”

“Okay!” Nate clapped his hands together, catching the look on Sophie’s face and wanting to head off the inevitable rant. “Let’s go steal a cupcake.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Our guy seems to be leading a pretty boring life, Finch,” Reese observed aloud. He was seated on a park bench in a quiet, slightly run-down part of the city. There were a few people strolling down the sidewalk, a woman throwing a ball for her small terrier, and a group of kids shooting hoops in a small basketball court off to the side. Busy with mid-morning traffic, the road ran just a few feet past Reese, right on the other side of the sidewalk.

Taking another sip of coffee, Reese settled back against his bench. A jogger ran past him, but he just glanced at her before turning his gaze back across the street, where a shopping center occupied the whole of the block. The storefront catercorner from Reese’s seat was holding his attention, the large yellow sign above its doors clearly stating what could be found inside the store. ‘Kiernan Discount Drugs’ was inscribed in large blue letters, and the hours of operation were painted on one of the glass doors - doors which Reese noted didn’t stay closed for longer than half an hour at any given time.

“Business seems to be booming for Kiernan.”

Finch’s voice came over the earpiece Reese was wearing. “I can tell. While you’ve been keeping an eye on our guy, I’ve been looking through his bank and credit card statements. He’s never missed a payment since his shop took off… about six months after he started it. Plenty of money in his nightly deposits; it would seem that rising healthcare costs have improved Kiernan’s business immensely.”

Reese tilted his head as he considered the information. “That makes sense. A lot of people don’t have the cash on hand to buy everything they need.”

“Cutting corners is the only way some people can obtain certain things,” Finch added. “It’s unfortunate, but it happens more often than one might think.”

“I got that feeling when I went in there a few minutes ago,” Reese said in agreement. At Finch’s grunt of annoyance, Reese raised an eyebrow. “Well, I can’t bluejack his phone from this park bench.”

Finch sighed. “No, I should think not. You didn’t compromise your identity in the process, did you?”

“You mean did I make Kiernan suspicious in any way?” Reese clarified. “No, I don’t think so. He was busy helping another customer. I just browsed that same aisle until I was close enough to get a signal. He didn’t even see me.”

“Well we can be thankful for that,” the other man observed. “The last thing we need is to spook Kiernan by making him think something’s up before we’ve identified the crisis.”

“Anything suspicious in Kiernan’s finances?” Reese changed the subject.

There was a faint clicking of keys over the line as Finch continued with his computer search. “Not particularly,” he replied slowly. “There are variations in the amounts that he’s putting into his account after each business day, but that’s only to be expected in a job like this. Nothing is ever quite certain in terms of profits, and with differing numbers of customers - as well as types and quantities of pharmaceuticals sold - these deposits make perfect sense. Other than that…” he trailed off.

Reese waited patiently, knowing his partner was most likely examining new information.

“Other than that, there’s nothing of note,” Finch finished. “It would seem that if Kiernan is up to something, he’s keeping it off the books.”

“Well that’s not going to help me head off any threats,” Reese commented, his attention pulling away from the store for just a moment as he tossed his cup in a nearby garbage can. It hit the side with a muffled thud, then dropped on top of the can’s other contents. “If I’m going to stop this guy from killing someone or being killed himself, I’m going to need something to go on, Finch.”

Finch did not sound amused as he responded, “I’m working on it, Mr. Reese. In the meantime, why don’t you give the lovely Detective Carter a call? Ask her to look into any criminal history Kiernan may have. I’ll go through Kiernan’s phone records, see if there’s anything questionable there.”

“I’ll do it from the road,” Reese replied, standing. “Looks like Kiernan is finally on the move.”

* * *

Eliot stood on the street corner, watching the passersby as nonchalantly as possible and adjusting his round glasses with one hand. In his other hand, he held a square white box. “Are we good to go, Hardison?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yeah, man,” Hardison replied. “I hacked into Smith’s online calendar and set you up an appointment. All you gotta do is march in there and wow the man with your cupcake powers.”

“I don’t have cupcake powers, Hardison,” Eliot snapped.

“You don’t - Fine. You know what? Fine,” Hardison shot back. “You don’t have cupcake powers. But your alter ego for the time being does. And that box in your hand says differently anyways.”

“This box in my hand is only here because -”

“Uh, guys,” Nate’s voice cut into their conversation. “Eliot’s going to be late for this meeting you set up if he doesn’t get in there.”

Eliot huffed a sigh at being interrupted but started towards the office building in front of him. “Yeah, fine.” He entered the building and glanced around to take in the small lobby. There wasn’t much beyond a security desk to the right of the door, a bank of elevators on the far side of the room, and an office directory on the wall next to the elevators.

“Sir,” the security guard stationed at the desk greeted Eliot. “Mind if I scan that?” he nodded at the box.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Eliot shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“As long as you didn’t bake a file into your cake, you’re fine,” Hardison’s voice came over the earpiece again. “Now, once they finish up, head up to Smith’s office. It’s on the fourth floor, suite 403.”

Nodding to the guard, who had just finished waving his wand over and around the box, Eliot retrieved his package and strode to the elevators.

“Oh, and Eliot? Don’t forget to turn on the charm,” Hardison advised.

Eliot punched the correct button and waited as the doors slid closed. “Next time, you be the cupcake man and see how much charm you turn on.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Hardison chided. “Charm, Eliot, charm. You ain’t gonna win any friends with this whole sour persona you’ve adopted.”

The elevator had reached its destination, so Eliot just ignored the voice in his ear as he approached the correct office. There was a receptionist desk just inside the office’s door, and Eliot smiled at the young woman who looked up at his approach. “Good mornin’, ma’am.” His usual Southern accent was more pronounced than usual, and he had adopted a nervous demeanor that was a far cry from his normal confident manner.

She returned the smile. “Hello, welcome. How may I assist you today?”

“Yeah, um… Lisa,” Eliot glanced briefly at her nametag before continuing. “I’m here for an appointment I scheduled with Mr. Smith, please.”

“Oh, I don’t think Mr. Smith has any more appointments until lunch,” Lisa replied, her short blonde bob shaking as she gestured with her head. “His last one just stepped out.”

Clearing his throat, Eliot chuckled nervously. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that I set one up for this mornin’ at 11. Could you please check and see? I might be mistaken, and if so, I’m definitely sorry for wastin’ your time. But it’d be for a, ah, a Dwight Marshall.”

“Well, sure, I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Lisa shrugged. She looked back at her screen. “Let me just look in here and see…”

“Marshall with two ‘l’s,” Eliot volunteered.

Lisa just nodded as she clicked a few buttons on her keyboard, then looked up, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Why, I am so sorry, sir. I guess I was the one mistaken. I do see you have an appointment set up with Mr. Smith for this morning. Please accept my apologies.”

“Oh, it ain’t nothin’, darlin’,” Eliot reassured her. “Can I go on in?”

“Please.” Lisa motioned to the door behind her. She pressed a button on the phone sitting on her desk. “Mr. Smith? Your 11:00 is here.”

“Send him in,” came the voice over the speaker.

Lisa nodded to Eliot, who smiled back at her and pushed open Smith’s door. Inside the inner office, a man stood from his desk, pulling his attention from the stack of files he had been reading, to meet his guest. Eliot recognized him from the picture during Hardison’s briefing the day before.

“Thanks for seein’ me, Mr. Smith,” Eliot said, extending a hand to shake the one the man had offered.

“My pleasure, Mr…?”

“Ah, right, Marshall,” Eliot supplied, pumping Smith’s hand eagerly. “Name’s Dwight Marshall, from Mobile, Alabama,” he offered, drawing out the ‘eel’ in the city name just a little more than usual. As he finished his introduction, Eliot glanced around the office. It was by no means the height of luxury, but it was a much more cushy environment than one might expect of a loan manager who catered to the down and out. “You have a nice place here,” he observed, taking in the dark beige walls, leather furniture, and solid oak desk.

“And you certainly have come a far way,” Smith replied. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the two chairs facing his desk. Eliot took one and Smith sat back in his own desk chair. “What brings you to New York from Alabama?”

“Well, you know, I’ve been travelin’ around a bit,” Eliot chuckled. “Tryin’ to find a place to settle down, figure out how to make a livin’... you know, all the stuff that comes with life.”

Smith nodded good-humoredly. “Yes. So what can I do for you, Mr. Marshall?”

“Ah.” Eliot made a face. “I need a loan, and I hear you’re the man to give it to me. I’ve tried every bank in town, but I can’t get one of them to loan me what I need. Somethin’ about me being too high-risk or somethin’.”

“And what is it that you need money to do?”

“Well, sir,” Eliot replied, puffing out his chest a little, “I want to open my own bakery.”

“Bakery?” Smith asked. He tried to hide it, but Eliot caught the glimmer of interest in the man’s eye.

“Yes sir! I’ve been perfecting some of my own recipes over the past few years, and I think I’ve finally got something that’ll win… appeal to the refined taste buds of New Yorkers and all that.” Eliot ticked a list off on his fingers. “I’ve got some great recipes ready to go. My plan is to open a shop specializing in signature cupcakes, which I’d sell. I’d also love to hold workshops where people can pay to spend the morning or afternoon learning a certain recipe - although of course, I’d keep the signature ones secret so that I could make the most profit,” he added. He had run through the explanation quickly, and he took a breath while he observed Smith’s expression.

Smith looked quite intrigued with Eliot’s words. He grinned slightly, and that expression widened into a full smile as Eliot leaned forward to push the white box across the desktop towards him.

“Here, try it. It’s one of my personal favorites.”

Tentatively biting into the beautifully-made cupcake, Smith closed his eyes as he savored the morsel. “This is amazing!” he exclaimed. “Is this bacon?”

“Maple bacon, yes sir!” Eliot grinned proudly.

Parker’s voice came through Eliot’s earpiece. “I told you; no one can resist bacon!”

Smith was still clearly enjoying the cupcake. “Why, you could make a fortune on just this!” He took another bite as he looked across the desk at his guest, now clearly seeing the man in a new light.

“Thank you, sir.” Eliot ducked his head modestly at the compliment. “Thing is, I need… well, I need everything to get this off the ground. A building, equipment, supplies… which I unfortunately can’t afford at the moment, not without a loan, anyway.”

“Ah, right.” Smith paused as if considering the idea, but it was clear that he was already sold on it. “Tell you what,” he finally said. “Let’s go into this as partners, and you’ll have yourself your loan. Let me back you and share the business fifty-fifty - once you’ve paid back the initial loan amount - and you’ll be good to go. I’ll buy what you need and handle sales, leaving you to handle production and product development.”

“Really? Why, Mr. Smith, I’d love that,” Eliot eagerly replied. He turned his head imperceptibly as another voice spoke up in his ear.

“Perfect, Eliot. Just finish hooking him,” Nate encouraged. “This is exactly where we want him.”

“What? Why’s that?” Parker sounded offended. “He’s already taking over Eliot’s business!”

Nate cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Well, that is what we want him to do, Parker. We get him tied up in this cupcake business and keep him so busy that he gives Eliot access to his accounts in order to buy some of the more… ah, technical supplies.”

Eliot could imagine their leader waving his hands around as he continued with the explanation he was giving Parker. “Then Hardison can drain Smith’s accounts to pay back our client and ruin Smith. With any luck, we’ll put him out of the business of robbing clients with fairytale loans.”

“Wonderful!” Smith was saying, standing as he wiped his fingers on a handkerchief. “I’d love to talk all of this over with you some more, but I have to run. There’s a lunch meeting I just can’t skip.”

“Sure thing! When works for you?” Eliot stood as well.

Smith smiled giddily. “Let’s say tomorrow morning? Set up a time with Lisa when you leave; she knows my schedule better than I do,” he laughed.

Laughing along, Eliot nodded. “Sounds great, Mr. Smith. And thank you again, ever so much!”

“Thank you, my boy. Thank you!” Smith gave Eliot one last smile and nod as Eliot headed back out to the lobby. Smith stared after him for a moment, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, before he sat back at his desk and went back to his files.

* * *

“If this guy is in immediate danger, Finch, it may be that he’ll die of boredom,” Reese commented dryly. “All he did was leave to get lunch at a nearby cafe. Although I think he’s meeting someone; he asked for a table for two and hasn’t ordered anything other than a drink.”

“Well, let’s hope something happens soon. We haven’t been able to learn anything from any other avenue.”

“Relax, Finch,” Reese reassured his partner. “If nothing else, we’ll just follow him around until someone shows their hand.” He looked through the viewfinder of his camera, taking in the cafe’s outdoor eating area from the driver’s seat of his car. Parked across the street from the cafe, he had the perfect vantagepoint from which to observe Kiernan.

Ten of the fifteen tables in the eating area were occupied, the patrons a varied mix of both men and women of all ages. A table of businessmen seemed to be immersed in a meeting, two tables consisted of several college students studying together, a single woman was absorbed in a thick novel that lay in front of her teacup while a second table was occupied by a man typing on an electronic tablet, and the remaining filled tables were being used by young couples focused on nothing but each other. “If Kiernan’s up to something devious, this seems like the last place for it,” Reese observed.

“I agree. But if he’s a victim, Mr. Reese, this could be a good place for an attack,” Finch commented seriously.

“I’ll keep an eye out.” Reese scanned the area again, noting the passersby outside of the low metal fence that separated the cafe’s eating area from the sidewalk. It was a usual day in New York City, with hundreds of people walking to their destinations, and this street was no exception. “There are dozens of people passing by, but none of them seem to be focused on anything but their own business. Oh, wait,” he added as a heavy-set figure walked through the opening from the sidewalk to the cafe and headed for Kiernan’s table. “It looks like our guy’s lunch meeting is here.”

“Does he look like he has ulterior motives?”

Reese watched as the men greeted each other with smiles and shook hands. “If he is, he’s hiding it well.”

“I’ve activated the microphone on Kiernan’s cell phone,” Finch spoke up as the newcomer and Kiernan took seats at the table. Conveniently, it appears he left it next to his plate. I’ve routed that feed through our line so that we can both hear whatever they say.”

Reese lifted his camera to snap several pictures of the two men. As he did, their voices began to come through his earpiece.

“I’ll take the number three,” the newcomer was saying, handing a menu back to the waitress who had approached their table.

“And a number six for me,” Kiernan added. Once the woman had retreated back into the cafe building, he smiled across the table at the newcomer. “Great to see you, Walt. How’s business?”

The man he had called Walt took a sip from his glass. “Not as good as it could,” he replied. “There’s been a decline in customers coming through lately.” There was a hint of accusation in his voice that Reese couldn’t miss.

“Come on, Walt,” Kiernan chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t think you’re the only one who’s had less business lately. Do you think I’m just keeping all the clients to myself?”

“Well, when my doors revolve more and more slowly, I don’t quite know what to think.” Walt didn’t sound amused. “What would you do in my place, Eddie?”

Kiernan made a noise of disgust. “We have two distinctly different companies, operating in completely separate areas! Me keeping them all for myself makes no sense whatsoever.”

There was a brief pause as Walt considered the other man’s words. “Okay…” he finally replied slowly. “You have a point there.”

“But since we’re on the subject, we do need to discuss the clients you lost this week.” He leaned forward on his elbows, and his voice took on an accusatory tone. “How do you lose three clients in less than five days?”

“Hey!” Walt also leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t tell you how to sell drugs. You don’t tell me how to write loans.”

“Well, it would seem to me that losing clients at the rate you are means you do need help.” Kiernan’s tone still held the same bite as before.

Walt tried to placate Kiernan. “It’s happened before, Eddie. Really. Whenever I foreclose on someone… well, other people get a little antsy.” He shrugged. “It’s just the way things work. Some people get freaked out and want to get away fast. But really, it’ll even out before the month is up. Trust me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kiernan commented. He eyed Walt across the table as he took a sip out of his glass. “You’d better be right about this or I might have to consider taking my business elsewhere.” His words came out more as a threat than a casual comment.

“Eddie, my man.” Walt spread his hands. “Just look at the numbers! Even with these losses, we’re making much more money together now than either one of us ever made by ourselves before we started working together. Seriously. That little scheme you came up with, getting your clients talking about their money troubles and then sending them to me? It’s genius, really!”

As the men continued their conversation, Reese raised his camera again. “Hm, Finch, it would appear our guys are in business together.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Finch replied slowly. “The question is, does either one of these partners have it out for the other?”

Reese nodded. “They certainly don’t seem to be on the best of terms at the moment.”

“I guess the big question is which one?” Finch reasoned. “And why? Mr. Reese, I need you to get close enough to bluejack this Walt’s phone. With the image you sent me from the camera, I’m running his face through the system now. We need to find out who he is and if he has any plans to harm Kiernan - or if there’s any reason to assume it’s the other way around.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Nothing to report yet,” Sophie said, turning a page in her book. “I got a nice little corner table at the place you said, Hardison, but Smith hasn’t even shown up yet.”

“Just stay put,” Nate instructed over her earpiece. “He’s stuck in traffic - or at least, that’s what Hardison’s, uh, map… thingie says.”

Hardison’s offended voice came over the line at that. “Uh, excuse me. Did you just call a highly sophisticated GPS tracking system a ‘map thingie’?”

“Lay off, Hardison. Not everyone’s as much of a geek about everything as you are,” Eliot growled.

Sophie could easily imagine the look on Hardison’s face as the hacker responded, “Well I’m sorry for trying to do my dang job.” He sighed. “Some people,” he muttered as the clicking of keys came over the line. “Okay, looks like he’s about there. Keep an eye out, Sophie.”

“Do you see anyone he might be meeting?” Nate wanted to know.

“Well, there’s a number of tables occupied out here,” Sophie replied, glancing around. “But there are two with men sitting alone… and one appears to be waiting on someone.” She studied the man in question. He was slightly older, had short auburn hair that was starting to gray, and muscular arms that could be seen past his rolled up shirtsleeves. Her guess was confirmed when Smith turned the far corner and made his way to the cafe. He went right up to the table of the man Sophie had observed, who stood to his feet to shake hands with Smith. “Seems this is our guy,” she remarked.

“This guy who was waiting on him, he looks like he was a fighter at some point in his life,” Eliot commented from the street corner opposite Sophie’s seat at the cafe.

Nate cleared his throat. “Oh?”

“He’s got a very distinctive stance,” the hitter brushed away the question.

Sophie kept her eyes on the two men, although she sipped her tea as if everything was as normal as it could be. “Okay, looks like they’re ordering lunch before discussing any business.”

“Well, since I conveniently hacked our guy’s phone during his meeting with Eliot this morning,” Hardison began, “all I have to do is activate the microphone… patch it into our line here… and we should be able to hear what’s going on at this little rendezvous…” After a brief pause, he chuckled in satisfaction. “And we are live,” he added quietly as Smith’s voice reached their ears.

“There’s been a decline in customers coming through lately.” His statement seemed to accuse the other man.

“Come on, Walt,” the other man chuckled. “You don’t think you’re the only one who’s had less business lately. Do you think I’m just keeping all the clients to myself?”

“Well, when my doors revolve more and more slowly, I don’t quite know what to think.” Walt didn’t sound amused. “What would you do in my place, Eddie?”

Eddie made a noise of disgust. “We have two distinctly different companies, operating in completely separate areas! Me keeping them all for myself makes no sense whatsoever.”

After a brief pause, Walt replied slowly, “Okay… You have a point there.”

“But since we’re on the subject, we do need to discuss the clients you lost this week.” Eddie’s voice took on an accusatory tone as he leaned on his elbows to shorten the distance between him and the other man. “How do you lose three clients in less than five days?”

“Hey!” Walt also leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t tell you how to sell drugs. You don’t tell me how to write loans.”

“Well, it would seem to me that losing clients at the rate you are means you do need help,” Eddie spat.

Walt was now trying to placate him. “It’s happened before, Eddie. Really. Whenever I foreclose on someone… well, other people get a little antsy.” He shrugged. “It’s just the way things work. Some people get freaked out and want to get away fast. But really, it’ll even out before the month is up. Trust me.”

“Yeah, sure. You’d better be right about this or I might have to consider taking my business elsewhere.” His words were much more along the lines of a threat than a simple, casual comment.

“Eddie, my man.” Walt spread his hands. “Just look at the numbers! Even with these losses, we’re making much more money together now than either one of us ever made by ourselves before we started working together. Seriously, look at how much money you’re making now that we send our clients to each other. That little scheme you came up with, getting your clients talking about their money troubles and then sending them to me? It’s genius, really!”

“Hey,” Eliot’s voice cut into the conversation the team had fallen silent to hear. “I’ve got a guy in a car over here. He’s not doing anything, but he seems to be watching the restaurant.”

Sophie’s head turned at that. “What? Where?”

“Don’t freak him out!” Eliot exclaimed.

“Ah, Eliot, are you sure he’s watching the cafe?” Nate asked. “Maybe there’s a logical explanation. Do you think he’s just waiting for someone?”

“Could be,” Eliot considered that as he kept an eye on the dark sedan parked about halfway down the block from his post. “I thought I saw a camera a minute ago.”

Before the team could speculate any more, an attractive African American woman in dress pants and a purple Oxford shirt crossed the street near where Eliot was positioned. She paused as she caught sight of Eliot, then gave him a sympathetic smile and reached into her pocket. Dropping a five dollar bill into the hat on the ground in front of him, she continued down the street and opened the passenger door of the dark sedan that Eliot had noticed.

“Next time, Parker can play the hobo,” Eliot groused, glaring at the cardboard sign in his hands.

“You make a great hobo,” Parker spoke up for the first time in their current conversation. “And we all know I can’t punch somebody if things go wrong. Remember last time I tried it?”

“Is that all you think I do?” Eliot snapped in a low whisper.

“Where have you been?” Hardison could be heard asking. “And did you get my soda?”

Parker laughed. “Oh, yeah. Here.” The rustle of a grocery bag came over the line. “I brought donuts too.”

The car pulled away from the curb once the woman had shut the door.

“False alarm, guys,” Eliot remarked. “Looks like he was waiting on someone.”

“Good, then we’re still on schedule,” Nate said, satisfied. “Hardison, why don’t you look into this guy Smith was arguing with just now. We don’t need any surprises on this job. In the meantime, Eliot, come back to the hotel and get cleaned up. We’ve got more roles to play this afternoon.”

* * *

“Thanks for meeting me, Carter,” Reese told the woman in the passenger seat as he turned the corner.

Carter nodded. “No problem.” She looked out the window. “Circling the block?”

“Don’t want to get noticed being in one place for too long,” Reese remarked. “What did you find out about Kiernan? Any hidden sins in his past?”

“If there are, I can’t find them,” Carter supplied. “He’s a pretty good guy from what I can tell. Couple of parking tickets, one DUI from his college days, but that’s it. If your guy’s up to something, we don’t have anything that would indicate it.”

Reese considered this information. “You could have called and told me that.”

“And miss the chance to see your smiling face?” Carter cracked. “Nah, I’m on lunch and had something to do out this way; figured I might as well catch you up while I’m here.”

“Thanks.” Reese pulled up to the curb close to where he had been parked before, only this time on the side of the street next to the cafe.

Carter turned to open her door, then paused. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“That corner…” Carter said distractedly. “There was a homeless guy there when I walked past not five minutes ago. He’s gone now.”

Reese turned to see where she was indicating. “Maybe someone asked him to move?”

“Yeah, probably.” Carter shrugged it off. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, John.”

After she had closed her door and started off back down the street, Reese exited his side of the car. He made his way to the entrance of the cafe, slipping his hand into his pocket as he did so. When he got to where Kiernan and the other man were shaking hands goodbye, he tripped and stumbled to the ground.

“Whoa, are you okay, buddy?” Kiernan’s lunch partner spun around and bent forward to extend a hand to him.

Reese grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Just a bit clumsy sometimes. Thanks.” He accepted the outstretched hand and got to his feet. “Thanks,” he repeated, patting Walt on the shoulder. As he walked past the remaining tables, he looked down at the phone in his hand. “It didn’t seem to pair, Finch.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Finch sounded slightly confused, and Reese could picture the furrow in his partner’s brow as Finch tried to figure out the issue. “Perhaps he’s more conscientious of his security than most people. Ah, either way, we’ll have to find another method of discovering who this Walt is… Oh, wait. I’m already getting some results from the picture. It would seem that Walt is a… Walter P. Smith, an investment banker here in the city. Smith apparently caters to high risk clients, giving out loans to those who have exhausted their options with other lenders.”

“So he’s Kiernan, except with money instead of drugs.” Reese let the two men get about halfway down the street before he started off after them.

“Precisely.” Finch was typing again. “The two men have multiple clients in common between their databases. Their partnership appears to be very profitable for both Kiernan and Smith… I’ve traced the date that they started working together… and it seems their profits climbed considerably soon after and have only continued to increase since.”

“Well, they didn’t seem to be enjoying anything at lunch today,” Reese commented. “I don’t think it’d be much of a stretch to say that Kiernan was threatening Smith.”

Finch cleared his throat. “I might not go quite that far, but Kiernan did exhibit a tendency towards violence. Perhaps that’s why the Machine gave us his number… I would recommend you stick close to Kiernan for the time being, Mr. Reese, at least until we know for sure one way or another.”

* * *

Nate’s key card clicked in the lock of one of the rooms the team had rented for their stay in New York. Hardison had been able to find a place that offered rooms with kitchen areas, and judging by the smells coming from this one, Eliot was putting it to good use.

“Here, taste this,” the hitter was saying as Nate joined the others around the small island separating the kitchen from the sitting area.

Sophie accepted the proffered spoon and scooped off some of the cream with her finger. “Mmm,” she sighed, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. “That’s really good.”

From her seat on the far end counter, Parker reached across Hardison to snag her own taste of Eliot’s creation. She tilted her head as she evaluated it. “I still think it needs drugs.”

“No!” Hardison, Eliot, and Sophie all exclaimed at once.

Nate looked around at the semi-exasperated faces of the three, took in Parker’s impish grin, and sighed. “What’s this about drugs?”

“Parker wants to lace my cupcakes,” Eliot growled, frowning at the blonde in question.

“But then they’ll really be irresistible!” Parker argued. She crossed her arms and made a face back at Eliot. “Isn’t that what we want them to be? And besides, what’s the harm? I can go down a few blocks and find some within an hour.”

Sophie cleared her throat. “I’m not sure which part of that explanation I’m less comfortable with.”

“Parker,” Hardison chimed in, “the last thing we need is you getting arrested for drug possession. We have a con to run, isn’t that right, Nate?”

“And it’ll ruin the texture anyway,” Eliot was still complaining as he sprinkled something into the bowl in front of him.

“But -”

“Parker,” Nate interjected, “we have other things to focus on right now. Drugging Smith is not one of them.”

“Fine.” With a dramatic sigh, Parker eyed the mixing bowl. “But I get to lick the bowl.”

Eliot relinquished his spoon. “If that’ll get us past the drugs, then go ahead,” he told her, reaching for a piping bag to hold his icing.

Just then, the cell phone sitting on the counter next to Sophie rang. Hardison snatched it up and tossed it at Eliot when he saw the caller ID. “It’s Smith!”

“Geez, Hardison!” Eliot snapped, snatching the device out of the air with his free hand. “Give me some warning next time.”

“Just because I beat you to it doesn’t mean you gotta get all angry on me,” Hardison shot back.

“Someone just answer the phone before it stops ringing,” Nate cut in.

Eliot gave Hardison one last look, then hit the button to accept the incoming call. He shifted into his exaggerated accent from that morning as he answered. “Hello?”

The rest of the team fell silent, watching Eliot’s face as they listened to his side of the conversation.

“Why yes! Yes, that would be absolutely great!” Eliot paused to listen some more, then continued, “I think that sounds perfect! Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. When do you wanna get started?... Today? Do you have a place?... Oh? Perfect! Well then sure. I’ll be glad to meet you for that… Go shoppin’ for supplies tonight?” Eliot shot a look at Nate, silently asking about what he had just said over the phone.

Nate shrugged and nodded.

“Sounds great. Should I meet you at your office tonight at seven?... Okay, will do. Thank you again, Mr. Smith.”

After hanging up the call, Eliot looked between the other members of the team. “Apparently, Smith has a recent ‘opening,’“ he emphasized the word with air quotes, “in a restaurant property.”

“Probably evicted somebody else,” Hardison snorted.

“We didn’t start this con to get more people thrown out of their homes and businesses,” Sophie objected.

“It probably was empty already,” Eliot reasoned. “Would take some time to get it cleaned and operational, and Smith said I could get stuff delivered this afternoon if I wanted.”

Nate nodded. “Well, whatever the case, we’re in. Eliot, you go shopping with our guy tonight. Hardison?”

“Oh yeah, I’m ready,” the hacker grinned. He waved the tablet in his hands. “As soon as Eliot swipes the credit card on the reader he’ll have in his pocket, we’ll be in business, baby!”

“And what about the partner at the lunch meeting?” Nate wanted to know. “Did you research him at all?”

Hardison nodded and tapped several commands into his tablet. He turned it so Nate could see the picture on the screen. “Our guest would be an Edward Kiernan. Sorta like Smith but dealing in drugs instead of money.”

“Drugs?” Parker perked up at that.

“Not actual drugs, woman,” Hardison corrected. “Meds. Like the kind you’d get to cure a cold or treat asthma.”

“Oh.” Her face fell and she turned back to the bowl of icing.

Hardison shook his head and continued, “Anyway, he doesn’t have any criminal history or anything scary like that. Seems to be just a business guy with questionable judgment who’s working with our super shady business guy. But as far as I can tell, he’s kept himself out of trouble. No need for us to run a con on him, too,” he cracked.

“Hey, one of you come taste this,” Eliot called, interrupting the conversation. He was holding up a frosted cupcake, complete with a small green sprig on the top. “I need a second opinion.”

“I can give you a second one!” Parker offered eagerly.

Eliot just raised an eyebrow. “I mean a second opinion that doesn’t involve the words ‘laced’ or ‘drugged.’“

She didn’t miss a beat. “How about ‘filled’?”

* * *

“I hope you’re having better success than I am, Finch.” Reese looked over the top of the magazine he was pretending to read. From his place by the newsstand on the corner, Reese could see everyone who entered and exited Kiernan’s shop. “Kiernan’s been busy working all afternoon.”

“I took the liberty of letting myself into his apartment,” came the reply, “and have been going through his personal computer. Other than some questionable browsing history that is far from the reputation of a gentleman, there is one thing that concerns me.”

Reese raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It appears that Kiernan has been researching real estate laws, as well as recent local graduates looking to get into the business…” Finch trailed off as he tended to do when lost in thought processing some new bit of information. “He’s also looking into properties for rent near Smith’s current office building.”

Replacing the magazine in the news rack, Reese strolled down the street to a coffee truck and smiled at the vendor. “A small, please,” he said, holding out a bill. As the man turned to retrieve the product, Reese put a hand to his ear and asked in a low voice, “Now why would Kiernan be researching the same things his partner is providing for him?”

“If you’re thinking the same thing I am, Mr. Reese, I would have to agree that it seems highly probable.”

Reese nodded his thanks and took the paper cup. “Are you thinking that Kiernan is trying to off his partner because of recent unsatisfactory events?”

“Such as losing several clients as a result of an eviction? Yes,” Finch agreed. “He certainly became angry enough at their lunch meeting to justify the accusation. As you said, he came just short of threatening Smith.”

“He might just be looking to get out of business with Smith and isn’t planning to actually kill him, but it’s our best lead right now.” Reese’s attention was drawn back across the street as the lights went out in Kiernan’s shop. “Something’s happening, Finch.”

The sound of a chair scraping the floor came over the earpiece as Finch asked worriedly, “Something bad?”

“No.” Reese breathed a small sigh of relief as Kiernan stepped outside and shut the door behind him. “He’s just locking up for the night.”

Just then, the phone in Reese’s pocket dinged. Pulling it out, Reese read the text that was displayed on the screen.

“Finch,” he said, “what businessman do you know who would be looking for his partner at nine in the evening?”

“Don’t let Kiernan out of your sight!” was Finch’s emphatic reply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the reads, reviews, bookmarks, and kudos so far! I'm really excited about this story, and I'm incredibly glad so many of you are liking it too!

“I had a great time tonight, Mr. Smith,” Eliot was gushing as he walked down the street beside the agent. “Thank you so much again for all you’ve done.”

Smith chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve told you, my boy, there’s nothing I’d like more than to help you get off the ground with this. We’re going to go far together, you and I, and this is the least I can do. Really.” He winked. “So stop thanking me so much.”

“Yes sir,” Eliot grinned. He extended a hand. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways,” he told the other man. “I’m gonna head back to my hotel and get some rest. You’d said be back in your office first thing tomorrow?”

“Bright and early,” Smith nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

Eliot waved. “Bye!” he called after Smith’s retreating figure. He was planning to turn and head back to the van parked at the end of the street they had just passed, where Hardison and Nate were waiting on him, but as he lowered his hand, a movement at the far end of the street caught his attention.

The street down which Smith had just headed was dark and quiet. There were several parked cars along the curb, but the curtains in the apartment building next to it were all drawn, and there was no one on the sidewalk on either side of the street. Well, no one other than a muscular figure at the far end, who was now headed towards Smith.

“Hey,” Eliot said quietly, putting a hand to his ear. “I smell trouble.”

“You smell what?” Hardison asked. “You’d better be joking because I think we just wrapped up our little job nice and tidy like. I just transferred the money and we are good to -”

“Hardison, I’m not kidding!” Eliot was watching the unknown figure intently. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I’m going to catch up with Smith.”

“Don’t do anything too rash, Eliot,” Nate’s voice cautioned. “We have what we needed here… I’m sure Smith’ll be fine if you head back now.”

“And the girls will kill us if they get back to find out you got killed,” Hardison added.

Eliot huffed as he eyed the two men on the street. “I’m telling you, Nate, something’s up. That angry guy from lunch today - what was his name, Kiernan? He’s here.” He glanced back to the end of the road, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up even more than before. “There’s someone else here now too… some guy in a suit, and he’s definitely trouble. Either CIA or Army… not completely sure.”

“Oh, but you’ve narrowed it down to those two options in one glance.”

“It’s a very distinctive stature, Hardison,” Eliot growled.

Just then, the new figure disappeared for a moment. Not long after, a group of three teenagers then rounded the corner, laughing and chattering loudly enough that Eliot could hear almost every word they said from down the block. Kiernan halted and turned to take in the newcomers. In the light of the streetlamp, Eliot could see him sigh slightly, then straighten his shoulders before giving up his pursuit and heading back the way he had come.

“Hey, mister, which way to the subway?” one of the kids called to Smith, who nodded quickly as he replied in a voice too low for Eliot to make out. Smith gestured towards the far end of the street, then joined the kids as they all headed that way.

Frowning, Eliot noticed the strange figure again. “The suit is back,” he informed his team. “And even though Smith’s gone, this guy’s fixated on Kiernan… There’s something going on here that we don’t know about.”

* * *

“Finch, he’s headed towards Smith.” Reese had kept Kiernan in his sights as the man in question strode purposefully down the darkening streets.

The text exchange that Finch and Reese had intercepted a few minutes before had been between Kiernan and Smith. Kiernan had played the curious, well-meaning friend, chatting his partner up and casually asking where the other man was. Regardless of the harmless appearance the texts had at first glance, Reese’s gut was telling him that something was about to happen.

Hanging back as Kiernan rounded a corner, Reese started forward after a few seconds’ wait. He glanced down the quiet street in the direction Kiernan had just headed. “They’re about to meet alone on a deserted street. This doesn’t look good, Finch.”

“You must do something!” Finch exclaimed, the alarm in his voice quite evident.

His mind working quickly, Reese looked around for something to use to run interference. The closest people to him were several kids tossing a basketball back and forth as they headed his way.

“Hey!” he jogged towards them, quickly reaching for his wallet. “Want to earn a little extra cash?”

All three of the boys’ eyes widened at the sight of the hundred dollar bill in the suited man’s hands.

The tallest of the group squinted suspiciously at Reese. “How do we know you ain’t playin’?” he demanded.

Reese gave what he hoped was his most convincing grin. “Do I look like I’d lie to you? All I need you to do is go down that street and ask that man in the leather jacket if he can show you to the subway station.”

“Is that all?” The boy still didn’t look convinced. He exchanged a look with his friends then turned back to Reese and crossed his arms. “I’m still not sure you’re for real.”

Reese shifted and looked back down the street. Kiernan was almost to Smith. With a sigh, he reached back into his pocket. “Let’s make it an even two.”

“You got a deal!” The kid snatched the money out of Reese’s hands and stuffed it in the pocket of his blue jeans. “C’mon, guys.”

“How much money did you just give away?”

“Relax, Finch,” Reese replied, watching as the kids headed down the street. “You’ve never spared any expense on operations before.”

Finch sighed. “Yes, but I never gave away a small fortune to twelve year olds either.”

“They look at least sixteen.” As the kids started their conversation up again, Reese could see Kiernan stiffen and turn at the noise. “And anyway, it worked,” he shrugged.

“Yes, well, let’s not make a habit of handing off hundreds of dollars to adolescent boys, shall we?”

Reese just shook his head. He was about to head for Kiernan when a well-built figure at the other end of the street caught his attention.

“Finch, it looks like we have more company,” he commented, taking in the stranger’s stance. He squared his shoulders as he realized the man was watching him as well. “And I have a feeling it’s not the good kind.”

* * *

Eliot was striding purposefully up the block towards the unknown figure, who now had a hand in his pocket and was headed for Kiernan. Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “He’s got a gun.”

“A what?” Hardison’s voice was at a slightly higher than normal pitch. “How can you even see that from there?”

“Eliot.” As Nate called his name, Eliot could just envision the older man peering out the driver’s side window to take in the street. Eliot paused and sighed but waited for Nate to continue. “Just get Kiernan to safety and we’ll deal with this other guy later. Maybe he’s just a street thug looking for a quick payoff.”

“Uh uh.” Eliot paused to turn and glare back at the van. “This is more than that. Look at how he’s dressed, Nate.”

Hardison had fallen silent, but now he spoke up again, his voice distracted as it tended to get when the hacker was focused on something else. “This makes no sense…”

The man in the suit closed the distance to Kiernan, and Eliot made up his mind and started forward again.

“He’s a dead man,” Hardison continued slowly, with more than a hint of confusion clouding his voice.

“Not yet he ain’t,” Eliot growled, not halting his quick strides towards the stranger. “Quit being so dramatic, Hardison.” He was still several feet from the other two occupants of the street when the man in the suit put a hand on Kiernan’s shoulder.

The man was speaking to Kiernan in a low, threatening voice, and although Eliot couldn’t make out the exact words, it was a fairly simple deduction from both men’s body language that this was no friendly meeting.

Eliot saw the bulge in the man’s pocket move forward, and he hesitated no longer. He quickly sprang into action, closing the remaining distance in three long strides.

* * *

Reese had been keeping an eye on the ex-military figure even as he advanced on Kiernan. Currently, Kiernan was the main threat - even though it was more than likely that this unknown man would end up being trouble.

Now directly behind Kiernan, Reese put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hello again, Mr. Kiernan,” Reese greeted, a threatening tone in his voice.

Kiernan froze, his shoulders tensing as he asked, “What do you want?”

“I hear you’ve been planning some trouble for a mutual friend.” Reese still had one hand on Kiernan’s shoulder, the other firmly around the grip of the handgun he had tucked in his pocket.

“Smith!” Kiernan snarled. “He put you up to this, didn’t he? I should have known he wanted to take over my business. All that talk at lunch today,” he snorted derisively.

“I don’t know about that,” Reese shrugged. “Seems to me you’ve cornered the market on that scheme. Now, we’re going to go somewhere more… private and have a little chat, and you’re not going to cause any trouble on the way. Got it?” He moved to put the gun barrel against the other man’s back when he noticed the stranger advancing towards him.

Reese’s eyes narrowed and he braced for trouble. Kiernan used that distraction to slip free and retreat quickly down the street, but Reese had only a brief moment to consider going after him before all hell broke loose.

* * *

Finch had left Kiernan’s apartment and was making his way back to the library. He had kept up his conversation with Reese both as he took a cab ten minutes down the road and as he walked the last five blocks to the building that had become his and Reese’s headquarters over the past year. He’d chosen the taxi to get back faster but had the cabbie drop him off before he got too close to his actual destination. It wasn’t much in the way of privacy, but it was better than having anyone curious about who was going into the supposedly-closed library.

He was shaking his head at something Reese had just said, and he sighed as he responded, “Yes, well, let’s not make a habit of handing off hundreds of dollars to adolescent boys, shall we?” His partner never hesitated to do whatever was needed to save others, and that was part of the reason Finch appreciated his help, but that didn’t mean he always approved of Reese’s methods.

As Finch limped hurriedly down the street, his steps were suddenly halted by the ringing of a phone. He glanced around, his eye immediately catching on the payphone that sat about a dozen feet to his left. His brow furrowed but he didn’t hesitate long. The phone continued to ring, and Finch quickly closed the distance to it and picked up the receiver. The handful of people passing on the street barely glanced at the bespectacled man standing at the telephone, but if they had paid attention, they would have seen the color drain from his face as he listened to the voice on the other line.

The voice on the phone continued speaking, and Finch concentrated as he committed every word to memory. As soon as the message had ceased, Finch hung up and turned to his destination as quickly as he could manage. He unlocked the library door, nearly slamming it shut behind him in his haste. Tail wagging, Bear leaped up to greet him, but Finch rushed past him to one of the many shelves of books lining the walls. He hunted through them, his face set with intense concentration and a hint of worry. He heard his partner commenting about additional company on the street, and that only deepened the sense of dread that was growing rapidly inside his gut.

“I have a feeling it’s not the good kind.” Reese’s words echoed in Finch’s ear as he retrieved four books from various shelves and covered the room in as few strides as he possibly could. His fingers flew across the keyboard then suddenly froze as he stared at the monitor and his brow furrowed in concentration. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a heavy grunt came over the phone line.

* * *

Reese saw the punch coming and sidestepped it, swinging around to the other side of his foe and pulling out his weapon. He didn’t know who this man was, but there was no way to find out unless he asked. He aimed for the knee, as he usually did, planning to incapacitate his opponent as quickly and efficiently as he knew how. Finch always hated the violence of gunshots, but Reese figured it was better than a messy fistfight every single time - and a well-placed bullet left its shooter much more capable of asking questions. If nothing else, a brawl would leave both parties bleeding and in pain - definitely not the best scenario if there was information to be gained.

As the gun came to bear on him, Eliot reacted quickly. He’d known it was there since he had spotted the bulge in the other man’s pocket a few minutes prior, and he had been waiting for it to make an appearance. In fact, if his opponent hadn’t drawn when he did, Eliot would have grabbed for it himself. Nothing good ever came of his opponent having an available weapon of any sort. He was ready to counter the danger as soon as Reese went for the gun. A lightning fast maneuver later, and the two men were wrestling for the weapon. Eliot brought an elbow up into the man’s nose and followed it up with another to the throat, attempting to distract and disorient him enough to take the weapon himself.

But Reese was as ready for Eliot’s countermoves as Eliot had been to deliver them. He blocked and delivered his own blow to the side of Eliot’s head, putting as much power behind his fist as possible. He felt it connect firmly and heard the other man grunt at the impact.

The edges of Eliot’s vision swam for a moment, but he still managed to slam the ‘L’ of his hand between his forefinger and thumb into the man’s wrist and wrench the gun away with the other. He tossed it to the side and let it skitter down the street into the shadows. Eliot smiled to himself in satisfaction. There was no time to dwell on that small victory, however, because no sooner had the gun disappeared than than the other man delivered several more blows of his own.

Twisting as he threw a quick succession of punches, followed up by several firm thrusts of his elbow in Eliot’s gut, Reese separated from the shorter man and regarded him warily. They circled each other for just a moment, looking for any sign of weakness to exploit. Then, in the blink of an eye, Eliot moved in again with a roundhouse kick to Reese’s chest.

Grunting, Reese managed to block the brunt of the attack and grabbed for Eliot’s arm, twisting it behind him and moving in to grab him in a choke hold. Eliot used that motion to his advantage in order to get his own attack in, delivering his own series of blows and kicks to several key areas on his opponent.

A quick duck and weave and Reese landed his own combination on Eliot, who countered them and threw his own. Reese stumbled backwards for only a moment, then advanced again.

The two men continued in a whirlwind of punches, kicks, blocks, and elbows, until anyone who may have happened to look their way would have seen only a blur of shadows, as the accompanying grunts and growls clued them in to the battle going on. But no one did… no one but the blinking red lights of the security cameras mounted on the sides of two buildings at either end of the street.

* * *

“What do you mean, ‘he’s a dead man’?” Nate was demanding. He’d watched the two men advance on each other and now winced at the noises coming through the comm as he turned on the hacker. “Hardison, Eliot is most certainly not fighting a dead man out there.”

Hardison just shook his head as his fingers scurried across the keys in front of him. He raised his left hand to point to the computer screen as he answered, “I ran the picture through facial rec, and the only result I got was a man who is reported to be dead.”

“Hardison -”

“I know, I know; it’s impossible and all that jazz,” Hardison shot back. “But I’m tellin’ you, Nate, this says - Oh that’s weird,” he suddenly interrupted himself.

Nate raised an eyebrow.

“This CIA report lists him as killed in action during an operation but… there’s some NYPD reports in the last year that list him as a person of interest… I don’t know how that’s even possible… it looks like the same guy…”

Suddenly a voice came through Hardison’s computer speakers and cut into their conversation. “I hate to crash your party, gentlemen, but there’s something you need to know.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the comments, kudos, and bookmarks so far! I know there are so many different ways this can go (and it was so hard to pick just one!), but I hope you all enjoy the one I chose. :)

“Now, I know you have a lot of questions, but we don’t have much time,” the voice continued. “I’ll be happy to chat with you after we get this situation under control.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and what situation might that be?”

“The one currently trying to kill each other outside your van,” was the reply.

“How…?” Hardison shot a questioning look at Nate.

When the voice continued, it was even more insistent. “I’m very serious right now, and I’m afraid the outlook for our pugilistic friends is as well. If Mr. Spencer continues fighting… well, I’m sure you would rather keep your friend around for many more years.”

“Are you threatening us?” Nate’s tone took on a bite as he leaned in towards the computer screen. There was no one to see, but since the voice was coming from the machine, it was all he had to threaten.

There was a small sigh. “Mr. Spencer’s opponent is my friend. He’s in as much danger as yours. I will call him off, but I need you to help me on your end. It would seem our friends have made a grave miscalculation - one that will cost them their lives if they keep going. Oh, and, by the way, Mr. Hardison, I am quite impressed by your communications system. I haven’t yet been able to get into it.”

“Ha,” Hardison grinned and leaned back in his chair, too flattered to even ask how the man knew his name. “Age of the geek, baby. Age of the geek!”

“Yes, well…” the man stammered for a moment. “Let’s just get this taken care of, shall we?”

Although slightly unsure about the entire situation, Nate couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on than seemed immediately obvious. He finally decided to give into the gut feeling that was telling him to trust this strange voice. “Fine, fine,” he finally agreed.

“Thank you, Mr. Ford. We’ll meet soon.”

With that, the low hum of static coming through Hardison’s speakers ceased.

Nate’s attention was drawn back to the thuds and grunts coming through his comm, and he gave a small sigh before speaking up. “Eliot, stop.”

“Not… now… Nate. A… bit… busy…” the hitter replied.

“No, really.” Nate was still wondering at the curiosity of it all as he reiterated his command. “Stop.”

* * *

Reese had just dodged another series of blows and was coming up with an uppercut when his partner’s voice was back in his ear.

“Mr. Reese, I need you to slowly back away from your opponent.”

“Finch…” Knowing the other man wouldn’t have said such a thing unless it was absolutely necessary, Reese pulled up, but his arm was already in motion and landed an only-slightly-less-forceful punch on his opponent’s jaw. “What’s this about?” he growled.

“I’ll explain everything shortly. Just please back away. Now.”

Reese made a face but did as he had been asked. The curious thing was that his opponent was also pulling back. The man’s expression matched the one Reese was fairly certain was on his own face. “You wouldn’t happen to be listening to a voice in your ear… would you?” he ventured a guess.

The other man just grunted and continued to stare him down.

“I’m afraid there’s been a big misunderstanding,” Finch continued. “Mr. Reese, there is much more at play here than we initially thought.”

“And I’d be very happy to learn about it, Finch,” Reese muttered. He wiped a hand under his nose, smudging the trail of blood as he regarded the other man cautiously.

Both fighters were looking each other up and down, keeping a watchful eye for any sign that the fighting wasn’t quite over. Neither was planning to make the first move, but they were more than ready to finish anything the other started.

“Well, you’d better learn, Hardison,” the other man growled in a low voice.

Reese raised an eyebrow. “Something seems to be going on with our friend as well, Finch.”

“Why don’t we all get together and catch up?” Finch suggested. “In fact, at this very moment, I believe our friends are deciding to join us.”

As if on cue, the other man brought his gaze to bear on Reese. “Fine,” he snapped, his voice now raised to a normal volume. “But I ain’t turnin’ my back on him.”

* * *

Within an hour, both teams were seated on the back patio of a small Italian restaurant. Several tables had been pulled together to provide enough room, and the seven seats gathered around were all occupied. Finch and Reese were seated beside each other on one side of the tables while the members of the other team were sitting along the other three sides of the makeshift rectangle formed by the tables. The two teams had naturally taken seats together, but Finch had made it a point to sit between Reese and Eliot. Reese appeared outwardly calmer than Eliot, who was sitting with his arms crossed and a dark scowl directed at Reese. Both men sported multiple cuts and bruises, although they had turned down every offer of ice packs and other first aid. In fact, the others had given up on asking after the fifth insistent refusal on both men’s parts.

Parker was sitting on the far right side of Sophie, next to where an eighth chair had been moved against the wall so that the canine member of Reese and Finch’s team would have room to lie down.

Hardison eyed the dog suspiciously as the waitress disappeared with their drink orders. “Are you sure it’s supposed to be here?”

Setting down his menu slowly, Finch nodded. “Well, I do happen to… know the manager of this particular establishment, Mr. Hardison, so yes, I would say so.”

“Okay, okay.” Hardison raised his hands and shot Parker a look. “You can’t fault a man for askin’.”

“His name is Bear,” Parker stated. She caught the look her teammate was giving her and simply raised an eyebrow. “What? You keep calling him an ‘it.’“ She reached under the table to pat the dog’s head, and Bear leaned into her hand with a small noise of satisfaction. “But you’re not an ‘it,’ are you, boy?”

“Yes, well,” Nate cleared his throat, “let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Ah yes.” Finch folded his hands on the table in front of him and leaned in towards the other team’s leader. “It would seem we have much to discuss.”

Nate looked to his right, then his left, to take in the expressions of his team. Hardison, Sophie, and Eliot all wore varied looks of distrust as they regarded the other two men. Parker… well, it was always hard to read Parker, even more so when her head was below the table. Soft, cooing sounds could be heard, along with the low jingle of the dog’s collar. With a small sigh, Nate turned back to Finch. “On the ride over, you were telling me that we shared a common goal?”

“Yes, that we do,” Finch nodded. “You might say we both share a desire to bring evildoers to justice, although our methods often differ.”

“You mean like shooting people in the street?” Eliot asked.

Finch cleared his throat. “I most certainly do not appreciate the accusation, Mr. Spencer,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “We take great pains to minimize violence in our missions.”

“It is a lot cleaner than beating them to a pulp,” Reese shrugged.

“As I was saying,” Finch blinked, giving Reese a sideways glare, “we never use more violence than is absolutely necessary.”  
   
Sophie glanced around the table as she spoke up. “So, you’re after Smith as well?”  
   
“Actually, we’re… looking into his business partner,” Finch supplied with a small nod.  
   
“Is looking all you’re doing?” Hardison asked, raising a hand halfway. “Because last I checked, old Muscles over here was about to shoot Kiernan in a dark alleyway.”  
   
“Relax,” Reese replied. “I wasn’t going to shoot him - at least not right then.”  
   
Finch sighed. “We were looking into the possibility that Kiernan was planning to take out Smith when we ran into your team, who seem to be after Smith. Care to elaborate?”  
   
The others exchanged looks as the waitress reappeared in the doorway with a tray of drinks. After distributing them, she smiled and pulled out her pad. “Can I take your orders?” she asked, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.  
   
“Ooh!” Parker reappeared from underneath the table. “I’ll take a pizza!” Catching the looks on her teammates’ faces, she frowned. “What?” she asked, making a face back at Hardison. “I’m hungry, and I like pizza. Pepperoni,” she finished ordering. “Thank you.”  
   
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Sophie declined, and the others nodded their agreement.  
   
“Okay then,” the waitress said slowly, glancing around the table one last time. “I’ll get this to the kitchen.”  
   
“I took the liberty of doing some quick research on your team,” Finch continued once the young woman had left. “As near as I can tell, Mr. Ford, you and your team - Leverage, as you call yourselves - help anyone who might need your help, wherever in the country they might need it. Considering the vast number of outstanding warrants you all seem to have gathered around the world, I can venture a guess as to where your funds are coming from.” He smiled and tilted his head in recognition. “I can’t say I fault your motivations. The world can be a very bad place. Is that what brought you to New York?”  
   
Nate nodded slowly, trying to determine just how much this man knew. “Okay, sure, we help people who need it when we can. It’s our business.”  
   
“Taking down corrupt businessmen and evil corporations is certainly a large goal,” Finch nodded. “I’m curious. Do you tackle targets as your clients request? Or do you have another way to determine who will be conned next?”  
   
He glanced over at Reese, who was still staring down Eliot. The hitter was returning the look, and Finch hid a smile as he turned away from the silent threats that were flying back and forth between the two men.  
   
“It… varies,” Nate replied evasively. He shot Sophie a look, and she raised an eyebrow in response. He was still trying to figure out what angle the others were playing, and he wasn’t going to readily give out information on his team until he did. “What about you? I’m going to assume your man here isn’t Kiernan’s bodyguard?”  
   
Finch shook his head slightly. “No, not quite.”  
   
“What I want to know,” Hardison interjected, “is how you got into my computer. I had firewalls and all kinds of security features in place, but I didn’t even notice you getting in.”  
   
Smiling a small, secretive smile, Finch just shrugged one shoulder. “Tricks of the trade, Mr. Hardison. When you’ve been in computers as long as I have, you pick up certain skills that prove to be… quite useful in situations such as tonight’s.”  
   
“Speaking of which,” Sophie spoke up, “how in the world did you know what was going on - and who Eliot was?”  
   
“That was just a bit more research once I saw what was going on. Didn’t take long, really.”  
   
She didn’t look convinced but let it go for the moment. “So, what are you doing here?” she prompted, bringing the conversation back to Nate’s earlier question.  
   
“We’re, ah… consultants for the NYPD,” Finch supplied after a momentary pause.  
   
“You work for the cops?” Parker asked, raising an eyebrow as she turned to look at Nate. Her teammates all looked uneasy as well, though they hid it with varying degrees of success, from Sophie who looked the least worried to Hardison who looked quite concerned. Eliot’s glare simply intensified.  
   
“Consultants,” Finch quickly clarified, trying to alleviate the tension that was beginning to build. “We work with them but in a rather… unconventional way.”  
   
“Unconventional?” Nate asked slowly. “If I called the NYPD, would they tell me the same thing?”  
   
Finch paused for a moment. “Well, if you were to call Detective Carter, then yes, she would tell you that we help out when there are… special cases that need some outside assistance.”  
   
Just then, the waitress returned, steaming tray in hand. She placed a pan of pizza in front of Parker, then looked around the table. “You sure none of you need anything?”  
   
They waved her away, and she nodded. “All right; just let me know if you do.” Then she headed back towards the kitchen.  
   
After she had gone, Finch continued, “I know this isn’t the most ideal circumstance for either of us, but I’d like to combine forces to complete our objectives.”  
   
“You want to work together?” Nate asked. He exchanged another glance with Sophie. “Since you’ve done your research…”  
   
Finch nodded. “Yes, I understand that your methods are on the unconventional side. But ours are as well, and I can assure you, we won’t be a, ah, danger from a legal side.”  
   
With a small sigh, Nate glanced around at his teammates, trying to gauge their reactions to the invitation. Sophie seemed to be thinking it over, Eliot still had the same scowl on his face as before, and Parker only seemed interested in the plate in front of her. Curiously, over half of her pizza had already disappeared, but Nate dismissed that minor fact for the moment. Meanwhile, Hardison looked like he had something on his mind.  
   
The hacker pointed at Reese. “When I ran his face earlier, the CIA told me he was killed in action during an operation but then the NYPD said he’s a person of interest in several homicides. Wanna explain what that’s all about? I mean, I know death reports can be faked, but there’s always a story there, so…?” he prompted.  
   
Now it was Reese and Finch’s turn to exchange glances before Finch responded, “Like I said, Mr. Hardison, our methods are unconventional.”  
   
“Well I like them,” Parker said emphatically, suddenly popping back up in her seat. “And we all want the same thing, right?” she asked, looking pointedly between Finch and Nate.  
   
“It would seem so,” Finch replied slowly, taking in the small amount of pizza remaining on the table. His eyes drifted towards the underside of the table, and he sighed. “Be careful, Ms. Parker; too much dairy upsets his system.”  
   
Parker looked like a small child caught in the cookie jar as she slowly drew her right hand back above the table, a pepperoni dangling from her fingers. A small snuffling woof came from somewhere near her feet as she gave Finch an innocent grin.  
   
“Okay then,” Nate finally nodded, turning back to Finch. “Let’s talk.”

* * *

The next morning, several members of both teams were back together, this time in a hotel suite situated at a relatively even distance from both Kiernan and Smith’s businesses. Hardison and Finch had already covered the small table and the room desk with computer equipment and were currently hunched over one of the monitors.

Parker had insisted that the room be pet-friendly, and Bear was currently sitting near her feet, looking quite blissful as she stroked his head. “So,” she asked as Nate walked out of the back room, “where is everyone? And when do we start taking this guy down?”  
   
“Well, Eliot had to go to another meeting with Smith,” Nate explained, taking one of the other two chairs in the sitting area. “We need to keep up that cover so Smith doesn’t get suspicious of anything and bring it up with Kiernan. Sophie said she had an errand to run, and, ah, Reese is picking someone up.”  
   
“Someone?” Parker looked curiously over at where Finch and Hardison were still working on the computers.  
   
Finch glanced up, distracted for the moment from his task. “Yes, we needed someone else’s assistance with part of our task since Mr. Kiernan has already seen several of our faces. As Mr. Ford said, we don’t want to get anyone suspicious - at least not yet,” he added.  
   
“In the meantime,” Hardison jumped in, “I’ve given everyone earbuds so that we’re all on the same frequency for our operation. As long as y’all have these babies in, we’ll all be able to talk to each other easy as pie.”  
   
Finch’s brow creased, but he simply nodded. “Yes, we determined this was the most effective way of keeping our teams in communication.”  
   
“I’ve even got an extra for your friend,” Hardison directed the statement at Finch.  
   
“Is this friend the someone Nate was talking about?” Parker wanted to know.

* * *

“Come on, Lionel; we don’t have all day,” Reese sighed. He continued down the sidewalk as he spoke into the phone. “Time’s ticking.”  
   
“Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time,” the man on the other line shot back. “Some people around here actually have jobs to do, you know. I don’t get paid to run around with you nutcases all day; my desk says ‘Detective Fusco’ for a reason.”  
   
Reese cracked a small grin but hid the sound of it from his voice as he shook his head. “See you soon, Lionel.” The call ended, he put his phone back in his pocket and headed for a small cafe.  
   
He was just down the block from the police department where Fusco was stationed. The surrounding streets were relatively quiet at this time of the morning. The work crowd were all at their offices and kids were in school, and although the area was still quite busy - it was New York, after all - things were not quite as packed as they sometimes were.  
   
Before he could find a table, a woman walking down the sidewalk caught his attention. She was impeccably dressed in designer heels, a gray dress that brushed just above her knees, and a short black jacket, her dark blonde hair fixed just so. Reese caught her eye, and she shot him a smile, speeding up her pace to join him.  
   
“Hey stranger,” she greeted. “It’s been a while.”  
   
“Zoe,” Reese acknowledged. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
   
“What? A girl can’t stop just to catch up?” She paused, but when Reese didn’t respond, she chuckled. “No, I suppose we’re not the catching up type. Should we grab a seat?”  
   
Reese shrugged. “Why not?”  
   
A server in a black shirt and jeans had been clearing a nearby table, but he glanced over. “You folks ready?”  
   
“Just coffee, black,” Reese nodded.  
   
Zoe smiled. “I’ll have a tea, thanks.”  
   
When the man had retreated to place their orders, Zoe looked back across the table. “Have you or your friend have heard anything about a crew that’s in town?”  
   
Reese raised an eyebrow. “A crew?”  
   
“Well, you know, with you two being so in tune with the goings-on in the city, I thought you might have some inside information. They’re called Leverage… From what I’ve heard, they’re some high-level con artists who take down various targets - almost like a Robin Hood crew.”  
   
“Robin Hood?” Reese smiled.  
   
Zoe gave him a look. “You’re repeating everything I say. That’s never a good sign.”  
   
“Why are you interested?” Reese covered quickly.  
   
The server returned just then, carrying a tray of two steaming cups and a small pitcher. “I brought you some cream. Sugar’s on the table. Anything else?”  
   
“No, thank you,” Zoe smiled.  
   
When Reese nodded his agreement, the server tucked the tray under his arm. “Cool. Enjoy.”  
   
Zoe watched as he moved over to check on another table, then she leveled her gaze at Reese. “Let’s just say that several of my clients would be willing to… invest a little to learn what this team is doing in town.”  
   
Seizing the out offered by the cup of coffee in front of him, Reese took a long sip as he considered her question. Before he could respond, there was a low crackle in his ear.  
   
“John!” a woman’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Who’s your friend?” Sophie continued, although since Reese could only hear her through his comm, it was simple to assume she was watching from nearby.  
   
He set his cup down. “Isn’t investigating con artists a little outside of a fixer’s normal activities?”  
   
“Not really,” Zoe shrugged. “I do what I need to keep things running smoothly for certain people. This just happens to fall under that description… today.” She trailed off as she noticed a look cross Reese’s face. “Is something wrong?”  
   
Reese sighed, mentally pushing aside the voice that was still talking in his ear. “Actually, yes, I did know they were here.”  
   
“Oh really?” Zoe’s eyebrow went up again. “Well, do you happen to know why they’re here?”  
   
“They’re… working a number with us,” Reese explained. “Oh, and one of them wants you to know she’s drooling over your shoes,” he added drily.  
   
His pointed tone made Zoe frown, then a look of understanding crossed her face and she chuckled lightly. “One of them has good taste then.” She took one last drink and stood. “If you happen to get any new information, give me a call. Thanks for the tea,” she added, then headed back down the sidewalk.  
   
Reese watched her go as Sophie strolled up to join him.  
   
“Hmm, she seems nice,” she commented.  
   
“She is,” Reese answered evenly. He glanced at the shopping bags Sophie had in hand as he dug a bill from his wallet and stuck it under his saucer. “Did you get everything you needed?”  
   
“It’s a start,” Sophie shrugged. “I need to convince Nate to stay longer after this job is over; there are plenty more shops I didn’t have time to visit.” She handed her load to Reese with a friendly smile. “And I need to catch up with your friend to find out the best shoe stores.”  
   
Just then, Reese caught sight of a shorter, heavy-set man in a suit and tie heading across the street towards them. “Come on, Deveraux,” he said with a small shake of his head. “Our friend’s here.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Wait, so I have to promise not to say anything to Carter about your friends?” Fusco was asking as he followed Reese down the hall of the hotel. “And you’re not going to tell me anything about them first?”

“It’s for your own protection,” Reese shrugged in reply. 

Fusco glanced back at Sophie, who just smiled and nodded. The detective sighed. “Fine. But only because I trust you.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he mumbled, “Maybe a little too much.” 

Reese smirked. “You’re just sore because she turned you down,” he commented quietly so that only Fusco could hear him. “You might want to work on your game a little, Lionel.” 

“Can’t fault a guy for trying,” Fusco grumbled. “What’s the big deal with all the secrecy anyway?” 

“Well, now, it wouldn’t be a secret if I went around telling everyone.” Shifting Sophie’s bags to his left hand, Reese pulled a key card out of his right pocket. He stopped at one of the doors lining the hallway, inserted the card, then pushed the door open when a small _beep_ announced it had been unlocked. 

“Hey guys!” Parker looked up and waved from her spot on the floor. She was lying next to Bear, her head resting on his back, a hand rubbing his ears. 

At the sight of Reese, the dog’s head went up and his tail thumped in greeting, but he made no move to get up from the carpet. Reese hid a grin at the contented look on the animal’s face and deposited the shopping bags against the wall just inside the doorway. In response, the dog just turned his head to nuzzle Parker’s hair, then rested it back on his paws with a contented sigh. 

“Y’all didn’t have to stop at every store on the way back,” Hardison commented, taking in the shopping bags as Fusco swung the door shut. The hacker was fiddling with a small piece of computer equipment as he directed a look Sophie’s way. “We got things to do.” 

Sophie just chuckled and strolled over to the sofa, taking a seat near Nate. “Oh stop being so dramatic, Hardison,” she chided good-naturedly. “I still have plenty of shops to cross off my list before we leave New York. Also,” she directed a look at Nate, “you still need that new suit we talked about.” 

Ignoring the comment, Nate glanced over at where Reese had taken a seat near the door, then took in the shorter, heavy-set newcomer standing uneasily to Reese’s right. “Thanks for joining us, Detective.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m only here ‘cause he asked me to,” Fusco replied, tilting his head to indicate Reese. He crossed his arms and returned Nate’s stare. “Mind telling me what this is all about?” 

“We, ah, have a number we’re investigating,” Finch offered in response, lifting his concentration from his laptop to the others around him. “We needed your assistance, Detective, so that we can keep all the aspects of our plan going.” 

Fusco nodded slowly. He had just started to say something else when the room door opened again. 

Eliot strode in and headed straight for the small kitchenette tucked in the far corner. He paused as he caught sight of Fusco, relaxing only slightly as he took in the others’ lack of concern. “Who’s this guy?” 

Fusco was looking less impressed by the minute. “I could ask you the same question.” 

“A friend,” Reese stated flatly, tilting his head slightly as if to challenge any further questions. 

“Ah, Eliot, how did, ah, how did your meeting go?” Nate asked quickly. 

The hitter shrugged. “Fine. Smith doesn’t suspect anything. I even tried to dig to see if your stunt with those teens caused any problems,” he added, directing this second statement at Reese. “But he didn’t seem to have noticed anything strange.” Eliot had opened the fridge while he was answering Nate’s question, and now he paused, straightening and shooting a dark look towards Hardison. “Why is the only thing in this fridge orange soda?” 

“Well next time, don’t assume I’ll run your dang errands for you,” Hardison snarked, tossing the device in his hand up and then catching it as he shook his head at his teammate. “It’s ‘age of the geek,’ not ‘age of the errand boy.’“ 

Finch suddenly stood from his seat, the desk chair squeaking as it rolled a short ways across the carpet at the quick movement. “Why don’t we just get on with the task at hand, hmm?” he asked, looking around the room hopefully. 

As for the others, Sophie’s lips were pursed in a bemused expression as she flipped another page in her magazine, Reese was quietly observing the situation at hand, and Fusco still just looked annoyed. 

When no one else spoke up, Finch continued, “Now, Detective, we need you to head out with Ms. Parker here and plant this,” he reached over and plucked the device from Hardison’s hands, “in Mr. Kiernan’s shop. It’s simply a small tool to assist in our investigation.” 

“A bug, you mean,” Fusco observed, walking over to take it from Finch. “The things I do for you two,” he muttered, glancing pointedly at Reese. 

“Yes, a bug,” Nate nodded. 

“Naaaaate.” Sophie drew the word out plaintively. “You _do_ need that suit. And think if you have to play a part in this job where you need it?” 

Nate sighed in resignation. “Okay, fine; we’re waiting around for now anyway. Might as well get it done. In the meantime,” Nate added, “Eliot, you and Reese stay here, but keep your comms on. We need you two ready in case anything comes up.” 

Parker jumped up from the floor, causing Bear to shift and look at her sadly. She reached down and patted his head, then skipped to the door. After one more look between Finch and Reese, Fusco sighed and followed her out into the hallway. Before the door had swung shut, those still in the room could hear Parker’s voice trailing down the hallway. “Can we stop and get something to eat? I’m starving. Do you want a burger?”

* * *

After the others had left, Finch and Hardison had finished working to set up the computer equipment necessary for spying on Kiernan’s office. After Fusco and Parker’s errand, the team would be set to keep an ear on the goings-on in the pharmacy. As they were finishing up, Finch’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He retrieved it and read the message that had popped up on the screen, his brow creasing ever so slightly as he did so. 

“Something wrong, Finch?” Reese asked, still in the chair he had taken when he first came into the room with Fusco and Sophie. 

Finch gestured noncommittally with his head as he reread the message. “Nothing serious, but I’m afraid I must step out for a moment to attend to something.” He looked between his teammate and Hardison, pausing as if to consider his next words. 

“If you’re worried about leaving us alone, don’t worry about it,” Hardison was quick to assure him, cutting off whatever Finch was about to add. The hacker’s fingers flew across the keyboard of his laptop as he studied the information on it intently. “Looks like our bugs are operational! The others should have them planted soon enough,” he announced to the room. 

“Thank you, Mr. Hardison,” Finch replied. “Now, as I was saying -” 

“Dude, we’re all grown adults; we’ll be fine,” Hardison laughed distractedly, interrupting the older man a second time. 

Clearing his throat, Reese shifted meaningfully in his seat. His jaw tightened, and he was leveling a glare at Hardison. For his part, the hacker gave no indication that he had heard anything, keeping his eyes glued to his computer screen. 

Finch looked displeased, but he quickly recovered and squared his shoulders. “Yes, well, I will be back as soon as I can,” he told Hardison, then turned and strode to the door. He paused next to Reese and raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Reese, it would seem there is a small problem with one of my aliases. Nothing serious, but it could become so if I don’t handle it. I shouldn’t be gone for more than an hour.” 

“You don’t think he’ll cause too much trouble, do you?” Reese asked in a low voice, his eyes narrowing as he watched Hardison working. 

With a shrug, Finch let out a small sigh. “Have fun, Mr. Reese,” was all he said before he turned the knob and exited the hotel suite. 

* * *

“I still don’t get why they sent us out together,” Fusco commented from the driver’s seat. He gave his passenger a look. “It’s not like we’ve ever done this sort of thing together; you’d think they would have at least assigned this to two of the team who have actually worked together before.” 

Parker shrugged and stuffed more french fries into her mouth. “Well, Nate said something about us being the only two available,” she said around the food. 

“Oh, well that explains everything,” Fusco muttered. 

Ignoring the comment, Parker brushed her hands together to rub off most of the grease and then opened her door. “Come on; let’s go.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” The detective joined her as she stepped off the curb. “How much experience do you even have with this type of thing?” he asked as they crossed the street. 

“I can take care of myself; don’t worry,” she assured him. Then, with a grin, she pulled a pair of dark sunglasses from the pocket of her blazer, put them on, and reached for the door handle. Before Fusco could protest again, Parker skipped inside the shop. “Huh,” she commented, pulling up to take in the interior. “I thought it’d be more cluttered.” 

Kiernan’s pharmacy was small, but it seemed spacious because of the layout. There was plenty of space for all of the merchandise, but the shelves were spaced fairly well apart. The counter with the register sat right near the front of the store, while two doors took up wall space at the back. One of the doors had a sign indicating that it was a bathroom while the other sign clearly read, “Employees only.” 

The bell above the entrance had jingled when Parker and Fusco entered. At the noise, a short, balding man with wire-rimmed glasses looked up from where he was writing something on a small pill bottle. “Oh, hello. Welcome,” he greeted, putting his pen down. “Can I help you with something?” 

Parker put on one of the fakest smiles Fusco had ever seen, although the clerk didn’t seem to notice. She pulled her glasses off with one hand and reached into her pocket with the other. “Hi there,” she drawled, “I’m Detective Fusco with the NYPD.” 

Sure he had misheard her introduction, Fusco quickly patted all of his pockets, his incredulous look growing as he came up empty. He drilled a glare into the back of Parker’s head, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

“I’m looking for the owner of this store,” Parker continued. “That’d be a Mr. Kiernan, correct?” 

“Uh, yes.” The clerk raised a worried eyebrow. “He does own this store, but he’s not in at the moment… What is this about?” 

Parker tilted her head. “We need to ask him a few questions. Will he be in soon?” 

“Oh, well, I… I wouldn’t know,” the man chuckled nervously. “Mr. Kiernan kind of keeps his own schedule.” 

“Listen,” Parker told the clerk, crossing her arms and leaning in across the counter. “Can you check if he will be? I’ve come all the way down here, and I need to talk to him. If he’s not going to be in soon, I need to know how I can contact him.” 

The man nodded quickly and pulled open a drawer under the counter. “Let me just see if I can find his number for you…” 

As the clerk dug through the jumble of contents inside of the drawer, Parker turned and shot Fusco a look. The detective frowned and pointed at the badge in her hands. Parker simply rolled her eyes as she waved her hands emphatically and mouthed, _“Go!”_

Fusco rolled his eyes too, but sighed and reluctantly raised his voice. “Ah… I’m going to step to the little boys’ room for a minute. Be right back - partner,” he added reluctantly when she raised an eyebrow. 

“Here we go.” The clerk slid the drawer closed, a slip of paper in his hand. “This is Mr. Kiernan’s card. You can reach him here.” 

With a small nod, Parker pocketed the business card and pulled out a small notebook. “I have a few questions for you in the meantime,” she announced, clicking open a pen. 

As Parker launched into a spiel of questions, keeping the clerk’s attention, Fusco strolled to the rear of the shop. He looked back towards the front counter, then, satisfied that the store’s employee was distracted, pushed open the door _not_ labeled as the bathroom. 

The stockroom was dim and quiet, but Fusco stayed still for just a moment after he let the door swing shut behind him. Other than the humming of the air conditioner, there was no sound from within. There was a door off to the side labeled ‘Office,’ and Fusco headed towards it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the device Hardison had given him in the hotel room. 

He turned it over in his hands, a doubtful crease on his forehead. “Well, let’s hope you work,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, dude, it totally works,” Hardison’s voice suddenly came through the detective’s earpiece. “You doubting my abilities or something?” 

Fusco rolled his eyes. “Keep your shirt on,” he shot back. 

“Well then I suggest you hurry up and get out of there,” the hacker replied. “Parker can’t keep the clerk occupied forever.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” The detective eased the office’s door open and glanced inside. There was no one to be seen, so with one last look around the main stockroom, Fusco slipped into the office. He quickly crossed the short distance to the desk and stuck the small, circular device to the underside of the piece of furniture. 

“All done,” he reported as he turned back for the door. “Why couldn’t you have just hacked his phone or something instead of me having to sneak in here like this?” 

Hardison sniffed. “Uh, maybe because we like to do things thoroughly? I don’t know where you New Yorkers learned your skills, but there’s this thing I like to call ‘covering my bases.’“ 

“I know how to cover my bases.” 

“Guys!” Parker’s hiss cut into their conversation. “Fight later. I’m about out of questions here!” 

“We’re not fighting!” they both responded at once. 

Out by the register, Parker resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she turned back to the clerk. She clicked her pen closed as she gave him her best nothing-to-see-here smile. 

“Uh, is your partner okay?” the man asked her. “He’s been gone an awfully long time.” 

“Oh, yeah, uh…” Parker blinked momentarily, then made a face. “Yeah… we had burritos for lunch. He ate extra beans.” She waved her hand in front of her nose and laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, you don’t want to imagine what it’s like on stakeouts.” 

The clerk’s eyes widened slightly and he made a face back, then he caught sight of something over Parker’s shoulder. “Oh, speaking of, there he is.” 

She glanced in the direction he had pointed, then turned back to the counter. “Well, thanks for your time.” 

“Sure thing, Detectives,” the man said. His tone was pleasant enough, but he gave a slightly-forced smile when he glanced at Fusco. “Let me know if I can help with anything else. And I hope you feel better soon.” 

Fusco opened his mouth to respond, but Parker turned on her heel, grabbing his elbow and redirecting him as she passed. “Let’s go, partner.” 

The bell above the door signalled their exit. As soon as they had hit the pavement, Fusco stuck out a hand. 

Parker just looked at it, then shrugged. “What?” 

“You know what,” the detective replied. “You have something that belongs to me.” 

“Oh, _pffft_ ,” she blew air out between her teeth. “That.” At Fusco’s look, she sighed and reached into her pocket. “Fine. Here.” She dropped the badge into his outstretched hand. “Watch it more carefully next time,” she muttered under her breath as she brushed past him to head for the car. 

“What was that?” Fusco asked, turning to follow. 

She flashed an innocent smile. “Oh, nothing. Just that a cop should probably keep a closer eye on his badge and gun,” she offered, then ducked into the car and swung the door shut behind her. 

“My what?” Fusco patted his sides, then sighed and rolled his eyes. “For the love of - can you stop doing that?” he asked, sliding into the driver’s seat and leveling a look of frustration at the thief in his passenger seat. 

Parker just shrugged. “Eliot says guns are bad.” 

“Eliot can kiss my -” 

“Ah ah. Be nice,” Parker waved a finger at him. 

In response, he simply held out a hand. “You’re lucky you didn’t shoot yourself,” he chided as she reluctantly pulled the weapon from her waistband. 

“You’re cute.” Parker glanced through the windshield, then back at the detective. “The others are waiting. Can we go?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Fusco checked his blind spot, then pulled out onto the street. “The sooner we get back to the hotel, the sooner you quit lifting stuff from me. At the rate you’re going, I’ll be lucky if the only thing I go home without tonight is my pride.” 

* * *

“Right, so I come around the car and say, ‘Hey,’“ Eliot was deep in story-telling mode. “‘What smells like crank and screams like a girl?’” 

Reese lowered his bottle and raised an eyebrow in question, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “Let me guess, he screamed in response?” 

Just then, the door opened and Finch hurried in. Bear jumped up from the floor beside Reese’s feet and trotted over in greeting, tongue hanging out happily. 

“Gentlemen, I apologize for…” Finch trailed off, pausing as he removed his hat and took in the scene in front of him. “Oh thank goodness. I was slightly worried I would return to find at least one body in the room.” He patted Bear on the head and tossed his hat onto the sofa. 

The two men on the sofa exchanged a glance, which was not lost on Finch. The pause was very brief, interrupted a moment later by a loud banging sound. 

If looks could kill, Finch’s would have leveled both fighters. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves!” he remonstrated, catching sight of the chair tilted up underneath the handle of the bathroom door. He strode across the room, his lips pursing even more as the thumping continued. 

“Yeah!” Hardison yelped as soon as Finch had moved the offending piece of furniture and opened the door. “You should most definitely be ashamed of yourselves,” he repeated, straightening his jacket with a firm tug. “Didn’t your mamas never teach y’all any manners? For goodness sakes, y’all!” 

Finch slowly turned from the door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out and leveled a very pointed look at his partner. “We do not lock our allies in hotel bathrooms, Mr. Reese.” 

“It was for his own protection,” Reese shrugged, exchanging another glance with Eliot. 

“How so?” Finch frowned. 

From his place behind Finch, Hardison crossed his arms and glared at Eliot. 

Reese calmly sipped his drink. “He was unsettling the dog.” 

“That’s not funny, Mr. Reese.” 

“I thought it was funny,” Eliot offered, looking up from scratching Bear’s ears. 

“Well, I didn’t, thank you very much,” Hardison shot back grumpily. “And let’s just see how funny you think it is when I cancel your plane ticket back to Boston.” 

Finch gave a long-suffering sigh. “It would be wise for you to keep out of this, Mr. Spencer,” he scolded. 

“Not like he kept out of it so far,” Hardison sniffed. “You know, I can see _him_ doing something like that,” he complained, rolling his eyes at Reese, “but my own teammate…” He shook his head and _tsk_ ed in disapproval. 

Rolling his eyes, Eliot smirked. “Oh calm down, Hardison. It was a harmless prank. It’s not like we shoved you in a locker.” 

“Might as well have been,” Hardison groused. 

Forehead wrinkling in concern, Finch looked between the two Leverage teammates. He shot a glance at Reese, but if he had been hoping for an indication that the taller man was going to help break up the argument, he was mistaken. If anything, Reese seemed to be enjoying himself - a little too much, Finch noted. He breathed a sigh of relief when, before Eliot could retort, the door swung open and Nate and Sophie walked in. 

The tension in the air was palpable, and judging from their expressions, both of the newcomers could tell something was going on. Nate’s tired sigh as he took in the scene matched Finch’s sigh from moments before. “What -” Nate started, then paused as if thinking better of whatever he was about to say. 

Finch and Sophie exchange sympathetic, parental glances as Nate pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. 

“Okay,” he said, looking up again. “Here’s the plan.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the reads, kudos, and reviews so far! I know I can't meet all of your expectations, but I hope you have enjoyed the ride! We're nearly there - but of course, our teams haven't met quite enough trouble yet, so here we go...

Later that afternoon, an SUV followed a smaller car as it pulled up behind the strip mall where Smith’s empty bakery was located. Hardison’s van was already parked at the far end from the property in question, and the drivers of the other two vehicles parked next to it. Parker leaped out of the back of the SUV, almost before it came to a full stop, excitedly bounding for the door. Sophie and Nate were slightly slower, exiting after the ignition cut off. Reese and Eliot were right behind them as they also made their way inside.

The industrial kitchen was dim and quiet, and the group’s footsteps echoed softly as they headed towards the front of the restaurant.

“Hey hey, y’all,” Hardison called in greeting from across the room as they pushed through the swinging door. He was standing on an old painter’s ladder in the far corner, a pair of pliers in one hand and his other above his head, holding the tangle of wires that dangled from an old gray security camera. “We’re just finishing up here. This place’ll be wired tighter’n Alcatraz in a minute.”

Studying the screen of his phone, Finch limped over to join the group from the other side of the room. He glanced up and nodded in greeting at the newcomers. “Our two friends should be here soon. Smith received a text from Mr. Spencer’s phone asking to meet here, and we sent Kiernan one that appeared to be from Smith. Both responded in the positive, and both agreed to meet here at four pm exactly.”

Hardison jumped down from his perch, having finished up with the device on the wall. “Which means both should be arriving in ten minutes… unless they’re those type of people who have to be early to everything, in which case we will have much less.” He caught the look Reese was giving him and unsuccessfully tried to hide his involuntary flinch.

Reese smirked. “Anything wrong with being early, Hardison?”

“No, no, man. If you wanna be twenty minutes early for everything in your life, it’s cool. It’s cool.” Hardison shrugged. “Waste perfectly good time, if you ask me, but you know, whatever floats your boat. It’s fine.”

“For the love of - Shut up, Hardison,” Eliot growled.

Heading off the oncoming storm, Nate cut in, “So the whole place is wired to go?”

“Yes,” Finch responded. He nodded to where Hardison was retrieving an open laptop computer from the counter. “And Detective Fusco will be joining us shortly. As long as everything goes according to plan, he will be able to put both of our friends under arrest to wrap things up for us.”

Hardison turned the device around so the others could see the screen. It was divided into six segments, each displaying a portion of the restaurant’s interior. “We can see and hear anything that goes on in here,” he said proudly.

“Hey look; it’s us!” Parker pointed excitedly. She leaned in closer to the screen to study one of the images of their group, then turned in the direction from which the feed seemed to be coming. Her quick eyes darted back and forth, then she skipped over to the corner where Hardison had been moments before. She swung herself up on the top of the ladder and stood on the top of it, stretching on her toes to study the camera. “And this’ll record everything that happens?” she asked, almost skeptically.

“Trust me; even a mouse couldn’t get by these babies,” Hardison grinned at her.

“Oh. Okay.” She shrugged and effortlessly leaped backwards to the floor. “Let’s go; I wanna see it on the big monitors!” she told the others, grabbing Hardison’s keys from the counter and heading for the door into the kitchen. “I just press the big red button, right?”

Hardison frowned worriedly and quickly followed on her heels. “Do not mess with any of my equipment, Parker!”

* * *

Sure enough, before long, a car pulled up in front of the building where Hardison and Finch had just installed the cameras. The seven team members were huddled in the back of Hardison’s van, watching the monitors mounted on one of the van’s interior walls. Hardison and Finch were both seated, Hardison with his keyboard in front of him, controlling all three screens; each was currently split into two, each displaying live feedback from the cameras. As for Finch, his laptop was sitting open on the table, although it was idle while he kept an eye on the video feeds.

The vehicle parked, then the door opened and Kiernan stepped out. Through the feed from the camera mounted above the building’s door, the team could see him glance around the parking lot before heading inside. He disappeared from the first feed, but then reappeared on several of the others, different angles showing from each of the cameras.

“Smith?” he called, turning in a circle to take in the empty room.

It was only a moment later that Smith appeared on the outside feed as well. Kiernan seemed to hear the engine as it purred to a stop in the lot. Impatiently waiting, Kiernan stalked towards the door, then crossed his arms and stared out at his partner. Smith didn’t seem to suspect anything was amiss as he walked lightly across the asphalt towards the front door. When he pushed inside, the expression of surprise on his face was hard to miss, even from the slightly-grainy video feeds on the van’s monitors.

“What are you doing here?” he exclaimed.

Kiernan scowled. “You texted me, remember? I have better things to do with my day than to show up at some decrepit old restaurant because you want to talk about our business arrangement.”

“What?” Smith blinked. He reached for his pocket and came up with his phone. “I didn’t…”

“Oh, don’t,” Kiernan scoffed. “Just because you’re upset that your clients are all leaving, don’t try to screw me over. I’m not the one hiding exorbitant fees in the fine print so I can throw poor families out on the streets after taking their life savings!”

Smith snorted in derision. “No, you just sell whatever uninspected drugs you can get your hands on for as much as you want. And write off the consequences and deaths as collateral damage!”

The team members in the van exchanged glances.

“Well,” Nate said slowly, “that was easier than we thought.”

“Maybe not,” Reese interrupted. He had been studying the far monitor, with its feed of the parking lot, and had noticed something while the others had been focused on the meeting between their marks.

Finch leaned over to squint at where Reese was pointing. “Oh my…”

“Let me see,” Parker demanded, putting a hand on each of Hardison’s shoulders and leaning over him to get a good look. She frowned at the screen where a third vehicle had now pulled into the front lot, parking off to the side where it wouldn’t be visible from the restaurant’s interior. “Who is that?”

The man in question had just shut the driver door. He was of average height but stocky, with muscular arms and a stern set to his jaw. Moving to the back of his SUV, the man leaned against it, crossing his arms and impatiently staring at his watch.

Reese frowned in concern. “Ex-army. I’d bet he’s a mercenary now that he’s out.” There was a brief pause as the others looked over at him, and he shrugged. “He has a very distinctive stride.”

“He’s right.” Eliot grinned in approval.

“Oh boy; now we’ve got two of ‘em,” Hardison muttered. Even so, his fingers flew across the keyboard as he turned down the volume on the security feeds to better concentrate. He entered a command to take a screenshot of the man’s face, and a moment later, a window popped up on his screen. He sucked in a breath. “Okay, I got it. Looks like that’s a Harrison Turner. And you’re right,” he nodded at Reese, “this guy has an impressive resume - if you’re looking to hire a former member of the armed forces who now specializes in any security job you’re willing to throw his way.”

As soon as the man’s name had appeared on Hardison’s monitor, Finch had turned to his own, and his rapid typing yielded results before Hardison was done reading off what he had found. “Turner also is a person of interest in several homicides over the past few years… since he’s been out of the army, it would seem,” Finch reported. “He’s even listed in multiple case files for accidental deaths, but only as a person of interest, and it appears nothing was ever proven against him.”

“Definitely an unscrupulous mercenary if you ask me,” Eliot commented.

Before anyone could add anything else, another car pulled up next to Turner’s. Three men exited, carrying themselves in a similar fashion to what Eliot and Reese had pointed out about Turner. The small group huddled together for a moment as Turner appeared to be giving instructions.

Reese looked at his partner. “Finch, the number… what if he’s both?” he asked cryptically.

“What number?” Parker demanded impatiently. “What does math have to do with any of this?”

Nate sounded slightly less impatient but just as interested. He raised an eyebrow at Finch. “We need to talk,” he said. He had been wondering about their temporary teammates during their time together so far; the story about the two men being unconventional police consultants just seemed… well, wrong somehow, even though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why.

But Sophie brought everyone back to the present moment. “We can work out the exact ‘why’s later,” she said worriedly. “Right now, we should probably be concerned about the small army headed inside.”

“Right.” Finch and Nate both nodded.

“We’ve got ‘em, Nate,” Eliot stated firmly, swinging the back of the van open. Reese was right on his heels.

Even as they did so, Smith and Kiernan seemed to have noticed the men headed for the door and were now arguing even more heatedly. The feed was still muted from moments before, but Smith looked very nervous, his demeanor having changed from a confident businessman to something reminiscent of a cornered animal.

Nodding, Nate looked over at Sophie and Parker. “You two go head off Smith.”

They nodded their agreement and followed the direction Reese and Eliot had just gone. Instead of heading for the back entrance, however, they turned for the SUV that Nate had parked shortly before. Parker turned the key in the ignition and they sped down the strip towards the service entrance for the bakery.

“What about Kiernan?” Hardison wanted to know.

On screen, Kiernan seemed to be pleased with the turn of events. Finch moved to the seat Hardison had vacated and turned up the volume on the feed.

Kiernan was currently snarling at Smith. “I believe these men are here for you. It’s been nice doing business with you, partner.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and pushed through the front door, nodding in greeting at Turner as he passed the four men. He didn’t even notice when another two cars screeched up to the restaurant.

As for Smith, he hadn’t even waited for the front door to close behind Kiernan before he turned and fled through the kitchen.

* * *

Parker applied the brakes as Smith flew through the service door. The fugitive saw the SUV screeching to a halt in front of him, and he stumbled in surprise as he tried to change directions on a dime. His eyes were wide in panic.

“Get in if you want to live!” Parker yelled through her open window.

In the passenger seat, Sophie nodded her agreement and waved urgently at the man. Not waiting to be told twice, Smith flung open the back door and jumped in. Parker threw the transmission in drive and peeled away before the door had even closed behind him. Smith sat back against the seat, breathing heavily, but quite visibly relieved to have made his escape.

Sophie turned around in her seat before Smith could get too comfortable. Leveling a stern gaze at him, she spoke up in her best New Yorker accent, “Okay, Mr. Smith. Let’s talk business.”

“I…” he hesitated. “Who are you again?”

“Detective Fusco, NYPD,” Parker threw over her shoulder, even as she kept driving.

“Now,” Sophie said firmly, “either you tell me everything or we turn around and let you deal with those guys.”

Smith gulped and visibly paled. “Okay, okay, okay.” He held both hands out pleadingly. “I’ll talk. Just don’t turn around!”

* * *

Meanwhile, Eliot and Reese had split up, one going around to the front entrance and the other to the back. Both paused momentarily as Hardison’s voice came through their comms.

“Uh, guys, there’s another two cars pulling up outside with bad guys,” he announced, sounding very worried. “Reese, Kiernan’s rounding the building, headed your way.”

There was a grunt and a small thud. “Got him,” Reese replied simply.

“Uhhh, you might wanna hurry up,” Hardison urged. “Eliot’s just about through the kitchen… Eliot. Eliot, hang on a second.”

“Shut up, Hardison,” Eliot growled, storming through the door from the kitchen to the front room. He took in the four men who were now scowling at him from their place in the middle of the room. “Hey, guys,” he greeted casually.

One of the men, a hulking blonde with a scar along his right jawbone, sneered as he looked Eliot up and down. “Is it just you, little man?” he spit out in a clipped Russian accent. “I could take you down in my sleep.”

“Well, good thing you’re awake, then,” Eliot returned calmly.

The other muscle were also leering at the intruder, and several cracked their knuckles in anticipation. Eliot just quirked an eyebrow, then before any of the men could respond, he struck like lightning. The Russian didn’t know what had hit him, but he suddenly found himself on the hard tile floor, the room spinning around him.

Eliot looked back up at the remaining members of the group, who were now advancing on him. “Come on, guys. I don’t have all day.”

Just then, a stream of light spilled across the floor from the front door as it opened. Glancing up, Eliot’s jaw hardened at the sight of the four muscular newcomers. “It’s just a party today, isn’t it?”

Turner and his two remaining men looked surprised as they turned.

“Did Kiernan double-cross us?” Turner demanded, looking between the others as if they could provide an answer.

The leader of the newest arrivals raised an eyebrow. “We’re looking for a Kiernan. You seen him?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hardison exclaimed. “You mean both our guys hired gangs to take out the other?”

Eliot looked around the room, sizing up the other occupants. “You’re a genius, Hardison.” As the men all turned back to him, he raised his hands. “Hang on now. I’m sure we can work something out.”

* * *

“Nate!” Hardison exclaimed. “Kiernan’s getting away!” He had been keeping an eye on all of the feeds as the action unfolded inside the restaurant, and he worriedly watched as Kiernan stumbled to his feet and rubbed his jaw. The man then looked around himself furtively before turning to head for his car.

Nate straightened his shoulders. “No he’s not,” he replied, heading for the door.

“Oh, I’ll come with you,” Finch followed a little more slowly, then turned to command over his shoulder, “Call Detective Fusco and let him know we’ll need more manpower than originally expected.” Then the bespectacled man swung the door shut behind himself and left Hardison alone in the back of the van.

“Sure,” Hardison groused, reaching for his phone. “Leave Hardison to do the secretary work, why don’t ya? Not like I can’t take on anybody. Shoot, man; I can take on just as many guys as dang Eliot can, thank you very much.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Eliot snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Hardison punched a series of numbers in his phone, muttering to himself under his breath as he did so.

He watched the feed on the screens as Reese pushed through the door into where Eliot was facing off against the large group of opponents.

* * *

As half of the men spun to meet this new threat, Reese reached into his belt and retrieved his handgun. He ignored the glare of disapproval from Eliot and held the weapon pointed downward at his side. “Now, fellas,” he said, looking between the four men currently staring him down, “we can do this the easy way, where you all walk out of here, or the hard way.”

“Oh yeah?” the man on his far left - a short, red-headed man - asked. “And what’s that?”

“You don’t,” Reese said simply.

In reply, the redhead charged, and Reese simply raised his gun and fired at the man’s knee.

The man fell, screaming in pain as he clutched at his injured joint. His buddies paused for just a moment before rushing Reese, and all three began throwing punches at the same time. Reese slammed a fist into the neck of the closest adversary, then, as the man groaned and stumbled, he spun and delivered a side kick into the abdomen of the second man. He heard footsteps behind him and barely avoided a rushing tackle. In his avoidance of the ambush, however, he had to leave his right side unguarded, and a lucky blow from one of his attackers sent the gun to the floor, where it skidded across the room towards the vacant counter.

Across the room, Eliot was also taking on multiple opponents at once, throwing a one-two strike to the throat of one man, then barely blinking as he ducked a roundhouse kick and kicked out with his own foot in the back of the man’s knee. Taking advantage of the man momentarily scrambling on the floor, Eliot planted his left foot and swung with his right, connecting with the man’s face and knocking him back onto the floor. He noted with satisfaction that the man was not moving beyond a small groan, even as he met his next opponent head-on. This time, the man managed to connect a punch of his own, and Eliot growled in disapproval as he felt his lip split. Ducking another punch, he kicked out, which the man deftly avoided before swinging in for a kick of his own.

Eliot intercepted, grabbed the man’s leg, then held it to the side, keeping it high enough that it effectively put the man out of action. At the same time, he reached out quickly and grabbed a third opponent’s shirt, pulling the man in close enough for a hard head-butting that resulted in the man falling in a heap on the ground. Then he twisted the leg he was still holding, thrust it to the side, then threw a series of punches that sent the man reeling against the wall. But instead of collapsing, the man simply advanced again, this time with a quick enough succession of swings that Eliot had to move quickly to avoid further injury.

Both men noted when one of the smaller, less well-built fighters extricated himself from the fracas and bolted for the kitchen, but then the more pressing matter at hand called all of their focus back to their remaining opponents.

* * *

Hardison had just disconnected his call when quick movement on the far monitor caught his attention. It was the feed that displayed the inside of the industrial kitchen, and the hacker’s eyes widened as he noticed the man running for the back door.

“Oh shoot, y’all!” he exclaimed, leaning in for a better look. “Uh, uh… Eliot. Eliot! John! Y’all, there’s somebody getting away.”

“Then do something, Hardison!” Eliot snapped in between the thumps and grunts coming over the earpieces.

Shaking his head as if he were trying to clear an imagined vision, Hardison stared at the monitor. “Come on, Hardison; think, man,” he told himself. Just then, he saw the back door of the restaurant fly open. Then with a sigh, he jumped into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine.

* * *

With a grunt of disapproval at the loss of his weapon, Reese turned and struck out with a solid fist, both hearing and feeling the connection it made with the man’s jaw. The man stumbled, dazed, and Reese followed up by jabbing the heel of his hand directly into the man’s nose. Ignoring the noise of pain and blood streaming from the man’s nose, he elbowed the side of the man’s head and kicked another opponent in the knee at the same time, knocking the first man to the ground and the second into the wall. The man bounced off the wall and ran back at Reese, yelling in determination with both arms outstretched. Reese calmly sidestepped the charge, directed another downward kick as the man on the floor attempted to jump up, then turned to intercept the charging man’s next attempt.

Meanwhile, ducking to avoid another attack, Eliot’s gaze happened to land on the gun that had skittered under the counter when Reese was forced to drop it only a few moments before. He then turned his attention back to where the man was waiting on him, with fists clenched. Eliot lunged forward, shifting his weight at the last minute to swing his foot and sweep the man’s legs out from underneath him.

“Stay down,” Eliot grunted with one final swinging punch downward that was powerful enough to knock the man out completely. He started to relax as he surveyed the scene, using a hand to brush his hair aside as he turned towards Reese.

Behind him, one of his opponents who had regained something of his senses in the last few moments shifted, slowly getting to his feet with a look of pure rage in his eyes. Eliot barely had time to raise his fists before the hulking form of hired muscle was on him.

The man literally body-slammed Eliot, driving the hitter back against the counter. Eliot could feel his back hitting with a bone-jarring thud that reverberated up and down his spine. He grunted and shook his head to clear it, but in that short moment, the man drove a fist into the side of Eliot’s head. The blow blurred Eliot’s vision and dropped him to his knees when the man stepped back. Eliot drew a sharp breath as he hit the floor, the impact vibrating through his knees as he connected with the tiles. His arms spread out belatedly, trying to break a fall that had already happened.

As he started to push to his feet, his opponent drove a kick into his ribs, and Eliot’s breath left his lungs in a painfully forced whoosh. The black around the edges of his vision made him narrow his eyes, and he planted his palms on the floor firmly to assist in getting to his feet, only to be met with another solid kick. Things went black again, but just for the briefest of moments. When Eliot’s eyes flew open again, his opponent was still moving as he turned towards the fight still going near the door. Eliot growled as he took in the scene of Reese still exchanging blows with two opponents while this third gorilla of a man advanced on them.

Eliot shifted to stand, fully intending to charge into the fray - woozy or not - when he suddenly registered an object brushing against his left fingertips. He tilted his head, realizing just as his eyes met the object that it was the gun Reese had lost moments before. With a grunt of displeasure, Eliot curled his fist around the grip, just as his opponent reached the others.

Everyone jumped a moment later, when the crack of a gunshot echoed through the restaurant and through the team’s earpieces.

Eliot didn’t even wait for the man to hit the ground before he launched himself at one of the two hired muscle still standing. His anger at being dropped a moment before was now channeled through his fists, and his newest opponent was motionless on the ground in a matter of seconds. He then looked over to where Reese was delivering a sharp blow to his own last opponent with an iron fist.

Reese glared around at the men rolling on the floor, dazed and in pain, then directed an approving look around the room, where Eliot’s similarly-downed opponents lay. The two fighters exchanged silent nods of approval, then Eliot reached down and retrieved the handgun from the floor where he had tossed it just prior to his last charge. He frowned at it, then turned the pistol around to return it to Reese.

“Not a word,” was all he muttered.

Before Reese could respond, the front door swung open and Fusco strode inside. “Ah, glad you could leave some fun for me,” he commented sarcastically, taking in the numerous men on the floor.

“I think we’ve got a couple out back for you, too,” Reese remarked, jerking a thumb towards the back door.

“Oh boy.” Fusco’s tone was anything but excited. “What is it with you people? Can’t we ever just have one case where the wrap-up doesn’t require assistance from the EMTs?”

As if on cue, Nate and Finch walked inside. Nate waved a hand at Fusco. “Ah, hello, Detective. There’s, uh, a guy out there who might need an ambulance.”

Finch took in the looks the other three were giving them and simply shrugged. “Yes, he had a run-in with a metal pipe in the alley. Nasty accident.”

“Uh-huh.” Fusco sighed. “You know, there’s a reason I prefer working with Carter.” He rolled his eyes in a tired, long-suffering way that spoke to the number of times he’d found Reese at a similar scene. “Dare I ask what happened here?”

Reese just smirked. “They had a disagreement with the service.”

“Oh sure. And I suppose that guy I just cuffed out back had a disagreement with that service van he was lying next to?”

Eliot hid a smirk of his own as he and Nate exchanged glances.

“Oh yeah!” Hardison’s sudden exclamation made the others start slightly, and Finch visibly flinched as the other man continued. “Age of the geek, baby! Whoo! Come on, now!”


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured we needed one little epilogue to wrap everything up. Thanks for sticking with me and this story; I hope you enjoyed it!

“Y’all should’ve seen it,” Hardison was saying, gesturing grandly as he wrapped up his story. “It was beautiful.”

“But… I thought you told me we don’t run down bad guys with cars,” Parker frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Bear, using his back to support her own. Parker popped another bite into her mouth, then nonchalantly dropped her hand down to her knee, where Bear eagerly licked up the morsel she’d left in her palm. “That’s what you told me during our last job. Even though I totally could have done it,” she added.

Hardison’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Yeah, that was because we were at a racetrack, and you were already crazy enough behind the wheel of that car.”

“That was a fun job,” Parker grinned. “Remember how pale Nate’s face was? I guess he was disappointed I didn’t make first place.”

“ _I_ was pale,” Hardison gulped. “I didn’t even know a racecar could squeeze through that small of a space.”

“Ohhh, don’t remind me,” Sophie shuddered as she joined Hardison at the table. “That’s the last time Parker drives anything during a job.”

“But Hardison gets to,” Parker protested. “And he hit that guy this afternoon. Hard enough to knock him out!”

Hardison sighed. “For the hundredth time, woman, I didn’t hit him with the van!”

“I haven’t asked a hundred times,” Parker defended herself. “And you _did_ knock him out.”

Shaking his head, Hardison reached for his drink. “He ran into the side of the van. All by himself, thank you very much.”

“Now you sound like Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious over there,” Fusco observed, coming up to join the trio. He nodded back towards the kitchen, where Reese leaned against the island, bottle in hand as Eliot stirred a bowl of something on the counter. “By the way, any of you happen to have any ketchup? I asked Muscles, but he just muttered something about appreciating his cooking and gave me the stink eye.”

There was a brief pause as the others studied the contents of their plates, attempting to process the need for the condiment. Parker wrinkled her nose, but Sophie cut off whatever the other woman was about to say. “It’s certainly an… interesting choice with this menu,” she replied diplomatically.

“You ain’t puttin’ ketchup on my rumaki!” Eliot yelled, sounding less than pleased as he waved his spoon threateningly in their direction. “Who does that, man?” he growled.

As the bickering continued, Nate hid an amused smile behind his glass. He shot a sidelong glance at Finch, who was tapping away at the laptop that sat on the table. Finch had been reticent to join in on the get together, and he had only attended at all because of the final details that needed to be wrapped up to finalize the takedown of both Smith and Kiernan.

“Hardison,” Nate called across the room, interrupting Eliot’s threatening of Fusco. “What’s the status on Leah Goldman and her daughter?”

Hardison’s chair squeaked as he pushed it back from the table and sauntered over to where Nate and Finch were seated. He plopped down in the empty stuffed chair, across from Finch and to Nate’s right. “That’s all good, man,” he answered, retrieving a tablet from the coffee table and tapping a few commands on the screen. He then offered it to Nate, who studied the social media page that was currently displayed. “Seems Leah’s received a job offer at a much more reasonable salary than what her two jobs were providing before. And coincidentally, it’s to manage a new residential development right outside of the city. Comes with a house and everything,” Hardison finished, a very pleased smile on his face.

“And all of Smith’s recently evicted customers have received anonymous donations that should get them well on their feet again,” Finch added with a nod. He looked up from his own screen and adjusted his glasses. “It’ll take some deeper digging, but before too long, everyone wronged by his scheme will be contacted with reparation.”

Reaching over to swipe the tablet’s display to a second page, Hardison continued, “That shop of Kiernan’s has been shut down as well; something about a federal investigation into not-so-legally obtained drugs.” He shrugged innocently, but the mischievous smile on his face belied the gesture. “And I heard there was a large donation made to a fund for the medical expenses of victims of uninspected drugs.”

“So we’re done?” Parker asked. She was returning from the kitchen, where she had reloaded her plate with an assortment of Eliot’s goodies. “Does that mean we’re leaving soon?”

No one missed the long look she gave Bear.

“Well, I actually have plans now that our job is wrapped up,” Sophie announced from where she had been listening in from her place at the table. “We aren’t possibly leaving before the weekend.”

“The weekend? But it’s only Wednesday!” Hardison looked to the others for an ally, spreading his hands in protest.

“Weekend works for me,” Eliot called from the kitchen. “Reese and I were gonna hit the gym for some sparring practice later anyway.”

Hardison started to protest again, but a knock interrupted whatever he was about to say.

“Ooh, that’d be me!” Sophie exclaimed, hurrying to open to the door.

Zoe smiled in greeting from the other side of the entrance. “Hello!” She offered a wave to the others in the room, then turned back to Sophie. “You ready?”

“Just let me grab my purse!” Sophie was grinning like a little girl as she stepped to the side table that held her bag, then turned to nod at the others. “See you all later!”

As the door closed behind the two women, Hardison drew out a long sigh and looked pointedly at Nate. “You think that’s a good idea, unleashing them on New York City like that?”

Reese turned and shook his head in amusement at the hacker, the side of his mouth tweaking as he considered the question. “Relax, Hardison. What’s the worst that could happen?”


End file.
